Through Mist & Elegance
by truglasgowgal
Summary: There’s a love story in friendship too; and based on those little moments in ‘Love Is…’ & ‘Pretending Was…’ Misty Bass & Eleanor Waldorf intend to show you as such, not that they’d ever admit to that being their intention, of course. CB.
1. Prologue: Where Is My Heart?

Hey there!  
Here's the next installment of my 'Love Is...'/'Pretending Was...' franchise that I'm sort of plugging for all it's worth - apologies - so I hope you like it.

**  
Title: **Through Mist & Elegance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters.  
**Summary:** Extension on 'Love Is…' And 'Pretending Was…'  
They've been twelve years in the making; the series of moments that took them to where they are now.  
Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf pondered the meaning of the little moments of love that always lay between them, but Misty Bass and Eleanor Waldorf have their own version of these little moments; and they shaped more than one relationship. There's a love story in friendship too.

_"On being asked what is a friend, he said, 'A single soul dwelling in two bodies.'"  
– Aristotle_

_"A memory lasts forever  
Never does it die.  
True friends stay together  
And never say goodbye."_

**

* * *

**

Prologue: Where Is My Heart? It Used To Be Six Feet Under. Now It's In My Hands

_"The day I met Eleanor Waldorf she was fitting one of my model's with a glare such as I'd only ever seen on my husband, and giving him probably the biggest dressing-down he'd ever received in his life. Apparently he was incompetent, she couldn't see why anyone would hire him, let alone want him to **promote** their company, and she had no further use for him. She ended the 'discussion' with a dismissive suggestion that maybe he ought to consider another 'line of work' because he obviously wasn't suited to his current one, and flippantly added that she expected he knew the way out, before turning her back on him and moving onto the others without so much as a backward glance._

_Eleanor Waldorf was a bitch. But she had also established near-legendary status in probably the shortest amount of time since I myself had entered 'our world'. And I was fairly certain if I weren't already married, I would've whisked her away in an instant. I'd already practically fallen in love with the woman with nothing more than a two-minute observation; I could only imagine what would happen when we were finally introduced (two more model dismissals later – she barely had any left, and they were each provided by yours truly.)_

_Yes, Eleanor Waldorf was a bitch; but she was a bitch after my own heart."_

Abrupt laughter cut through the air at this, surrounding the words, "That cheeky little wench."

"Excuse me?" came the choked response, as the young male before her eyed her carefully.

She raised a hand to her throat, and smiled fondly, a hand tracing the age-old paper in the leather bound journal.

Looking up at him after a short reminiscing moment, she said, "I apologize, Charles. Your mother has always been able to bring out a side of me not many are privy to."

He nodded; however, his eyes never left those of his 'newly-appointed' mother-in-law, as her own quickly returned to the flurry of inscribed words before her.

"Have you read this?" she asked of him, looking up a moment later.

A light smirk crossed his lips as he shrugged; giving an air of nonchalance, "This and that."

"Would you like to join me?" she queried, and this time directed it at both of them, her daughter and son-in-law.

"I think some things would surprise you," she told them, the corners of her eyes softening in the slightest of movements.

"But I rather think you'd like it," she said, as she returned her eyes to the reminiscent words.

And something close to a smile crossed her face.

_  
"She's a mother too, though. Not that you'd likely know it to look at her, with the figure she has and the way she conducts her business as if she isn't even aware of what a home is. I saw her eyes glance over to a figure huddled over in the far corner, watched her eyes soften ever so slightly, before she tore her gaze heart-wrenchingly away from the sight and went back to her previous task. She is a mother, through and through; I saw it in her eyes that very moment. Not but a mother could look at the sight before her the way she had._

_And suddenly I felt an intense kinship with this woman; bonded originally, through nothing but a burning love for our children coupled with a need to succeed in our own way, our own right, beyond that of bringing such amazing individuals into the world._

_- Except that was sort of already in our own job descriptions; she created them through fashion; I molded them by outer beauty - _

_I stared after her and saw a little girl: chestnut hair falling over her shoulders in loose curls, and the most gorgeous eyes I'd ever seen besides my sons; sitting primly beside her foreign maid, and her gaze trailing after her mother at every turn._

_She was such a beautiful child; **such** perfection in one so young; such beauty, and elegance, and… mystery. _

_This last one stirred something inside me, and all I could see was the deep, encasing eyes of my son; eyes that held so much wonder and awe and… **mystery**._

_The day I met Eleanor Waldorf, was also the day I met Blair Waldorf; and this day forever changed the lives of my son and I._

_I am sure of it."_

**  
_TBC…_**

* * *

This should be roughly 20-odd chapters - here's hoping ;) – and will make references to things in both 'Love Is…' and 'Pretending Was…' and then the plan is to continue on from this with another fic called 'ABC's of Love'.

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think.  
Steph  
xxx


	2. How Much Do You Influence Me?

So I realized tonight that I sorta want to get this completed and up before the new season finale comes around, which means writing about 20-decent length chapters of this as well as it's sequel, and posting them within about two weeks, so then I figured I best get cracking with the writing.

A/N: Normal type is for present time, Italics is for Diary entries (Misty) and Bold is for memories (Eleanor), and here's hoping I don't confuse you all :)

Hope you like…

* * *

Chapter One: How Much Do You Influence Me? More Than I'd Likely Admit

"_My son started kindergarten today. And for the life of me, I can't even begin to comprehend where all the time has gone. Last time I checked he was still a little baby, resting neatly in my arms, now he's a " big boy", and apparently doesn't need me to do his bowties up for him; because __**Daddy **__taught him and now he can do it __**all on his own**__._

_I swear Bart's 'independence lessons' might be slowly killing me. Is it too much to ask to be able to look after my son as the child he is? Apparently, I forget where I live and in whose company; Eleanor's of the same opinion most of the time._

_But I happen to know for a fact that Bart's feeling the effects of our son's seemingly sudden development in the age category – he's fled the country to try and pretend it's not happening for goodness sake! And I just __**know**__ Eleanor's more than a little upset that her little girl's growing up too fast (she's yet to pull anything as dramatic as my husband, however, to bury her hand in the sand about this rather glaringly obvious fact) not that either would ever let that on, of course. No, __**I'm**__ the one that has to show all the emotion and appear 'ridiculous' and whatnot; I could throttle the two of them sometimes, except that it's rather tiring acting for three people at once, and I'd probably drop with the mere effort of such an act, maybe one day though. I'll leave the thought to linger in my mind._

_My husband informed me yesterday that he had to go to England for business, and left last night for a week-long business trip to London. Needless to say, my son was __**not**__ best pleased with this; and after spending the better part of the day trying to settle and appease him; I was in need of some solace of my own, before night drew in and it started once more with the goodbyes and broken promises._

_I dialled an all too familiar number and immediately told her that Bart couldn't make it to Charles's first day of Kindergarten; that he was out of the country. She scoffed at that, and muttered something that sounded distinctly like "**Bass-tard**" – my best friend's idea of a little joke. I know, I agree completely, for someone who calls what she sells **original**, she's not at all; but I sniggered all the same. In my defense at this, however, it was more how she said it, than what she said._

_Eleanor asked me if I wanted her to come round and give Bart a piece of her mind, which made me outright laugh this time – it was the mental image. I declined, because I knew she would do just as she suggested, and then let out another laugh as I told her to stop skulking, because I just __**knew**__ she was pouting at my response; not that she hadn't known what it would be, of course, but that was a moot point._

_She huffily asked me what the point in my call was, and I chuckled; __**such**__ a drama queen, that woman is – no wonder Blair's already perfected the precise combination of diva and actress all rolled into one, by the age of five._

_We chitchatted for a little longer and she told me to go and talk to my husband; to tell him that I thought his business trip was a stupid idea; that it came at a stupid time; and that I thought the way he was running away from his own son was stupid too. And then I was to have mad, passionate sex with him, because she just __**knew**__ that was what we'd end up doing anyway, whether the stupid conversation was included or not – though she was adamant it should be, naturally."_

"Do we really need to listen to all this, Eleanor?" Chuck asked, a grimace present on his face as he did so.

By his side, hand in hers, sat his new bride, who was hiding a small smirk at his words, but held somewhat of a disgusted look herself.

"He has a point, Mother," Blair said, after a moment. "Must we hear about all this?"

"Yes," was Eleanor's short reply, and with a smile curling her lips, she returned to the words on the page before her.

_  
"And then she told me to go and talk to my son; to explain to him that men were just stupid, and if he didn't want to be stupid, he'd learn to be a little more in touch with his feelings, and act on them, and not to run away; though being Bart's son it was doubtful how much this would really register with him, or how much he would follow it. And then I was to tell him I loved him, tuck him into bed, and tell him that while his father might not be there with him he would be thinking of him; and that mattered more than anything else._

_I followed the abridged version of this, obviously, but Eleanor did have some good advice in her. She was, after all, my best friend; one should've expected nothing less."_

x

"I can see this is going to have to be a joint effort," Eleanor sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes.

She turned to her son-in-law and with her tone light, told him, "You know, for a woman who goes into so much description about things, she really is rather vague about the plot details."

And then she turned back to look at the diary, scanning a few lines as she said, "Now where were we? … Ah, yes, your first day of Kindergarten."

Eleanor let out a small chuckle at this, smiling as she commented, "Now this was an interesting day to say the least."

**  
When I arrived, I didn't even bother knocking, just breezed straight through the entrance and called out Misty's name.**

"**I'm upstairs, I'll be down in a minute," came the response.**

**I rolled my eyes; woman had a time all of her own, and walked into the front room.**

**I found Charles standing in front of the large mirror, tongue poking out his mouth, and a look of intense concentration fixed across his features.**

"**Having a little trouble?" I ventured, with an amused raise of an eyebrow.**

**His scowl met my eyes in the mirror, but he said nothing.**

"**Suit yourself," I shrugged my shoulders lightly, and turned to see Misty descending the stairs in front of me.**

**She looked over my shoulder and saw her son struggling with his bowtie.**

"**How are you getting on in there, Charles?" she asked him, meeting his reflected eyes with a soft smile. "Almost done?"**

**He nodded, and went back to the task at hand.**

**I followed her into the kitchen; taking a seat on one of the high chairs at the side breakfast-bar as she went about collecting the things the maids had set out for her son's first day.**

"**I don't know why you let him wear those things, they're incredibly tricky to put on and if he's trying to look like a miniature Bart, he's failing and he'd be just as well wearing a tie," I told her simply.**

**She turned to face me, back against the marble countertop, and tilted her head, giving me that look she liked to give me at times like these; the one that said **_**'he's a child, best friend of mine, let him be'**_**; to which I simply rolled my eyes, obviously. And people said **_**I**_** indulged my child too much.**

"**And what have you got him wearing that scarf for anyway?" I continued. "It's barely cold enough outside to require an overcoat – give it another month, then **_**maybe**_** I'd let him wear it, though in a different color, obviously."**

**She released a laugh when I finished, and simply said, "Well, someone's in an exceptionally wonderful mood this morning."**

**I fobbed her off with a dismissive wave, and started once more, "Back to the scarf – why?"**

"**He likes them," was all the defense she apparently needed.**

**I rolled my eyes at that, and scoffed, "He's six, he doesn't know any better."**

**"I'll have you know my son has exceptional taste in fashion; the likes of which, I _know_ you'd call _original_," and she sent me a smug look at her own little joke, before raising her eye brows.**

**I let out an un-ladylike snort at that, "And if he doesn't turn out to be gay, I'll let him marry my daughter."**

"You thought I'd turn out to be gay?" Chuck asked incredulously, and sent a half-glare at his new wife as she stifled a laugh – unsuccessfully.

"You spent half of your time running around your mother's model agency surrounded by half naked men – "

" – and women!" Chuck spluttered, eyes still wide with disbelief.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, ignored him, and merely carried on with, " – and the other half in front of a mirror or strutting the catwalk in my latest designs, a habit not your mother nor I, nor even your father – who practically rules the business world with a ruddy iron fist – could break, so sue me for thinking you might grow up to swing the other way."

"Still can't believe you thought I'd turn out gay," he muttered at this.

"It matters not, I was held accountable for my assumption was I not?" Eleanor questioned.

He rolled his eyes as he raised his head once more, and nodded.

"Well, there you go then, case dismissed."

"**So, why are you here, anyway?" Misty finally asked me, methodically spreading strawberry jam over the already present thin layer of butter on her brown-breaded toast; woman had weird eating fetish's too, how she managed to keep that figure of hers I'll never know. Well, I would, I **_**did**_**, but that's beside the point; it was unnatural, **_**that**_** was the point.**

**She looked up at me, and prompted, "Well?"**

**Apparently I'd been lost in my inner ramblings; something I knew Misty was well aware of as I caught her smiling that knowing little smile of hers, the one that seemed to resemble something closer to a smirk than anything else.**

**I rolled my eyes. "My daughter was having a mini-freak-out. Something about **_**Bear**_** not fitting into her new bag and her simply **_**having to **_**have him with her on her first day, or some other such equally distressing matter to a five-year-old."**

**She really did smirk then, "And you left Harold to deal with it?"**

**I just looked at her.**

"**Alone?" Misty questioned then, still amused.**

**I shrugged, "He has Dorota."**

"**Oh, that's cruel," she stated, and let out a brief laugh.**

"**Why? The woman dotes on her," I commented.**

"**Not for her, for Harold," she emphasized.**

"**Oh," I voiced.**

**Then after a moment I shrugged, saying, "He'll be fine. I dare say Charles is around her often enough when she has these… episodes, and he's hardly suffered."**

**Misty choked on a bite of her toast then, and made a face at me, "Indeed. Says the woman who escapes said '_episodes_' at every turn – aren't you supposed to be Mrs. Fashionista? Couldn't you have added a compartment or something?"**

"**And ruin a perfectly good Chanel bag?" I clucked my teeth. "Don't be ridiculous."**

"**You could always call it an **_**Eleanor Original**_**," she commented, taking another bite of her toast; this time, between grinning lips.**

"**Oh, hush you," I told her with a roll of the eyes, and picked up her other slice and threw it at her; not even bothering to suppress my wide smile as she nearly fell over while trying to duck from the flying sticky red substance coming straight towards her, which then promptly landed with a **_**splat**_** against the newly-installed and cleaned-only-moments-before-my-entrance silver overhead oven.**

**Glancing behind her to survey the 'damage', she turned back to me with child-like, Cheshire grin and delightedly told me, "Oh, I'm so telling **_**Constanza**_** on you."**

**I nearly picked up the plate to throw at her next.**

**Woman brought out the worst in me, I swear. **

**And it was no wonder our children practically ran wild, together or not, when they were hanging around with the likes of Misty.**

"**Besides," I replied airily. "She's been perfecting her little introduction routine for long enough, but apparently she keeps missing out **_**Cornelia – **_**or so your son's been repeatedly telling her, anyway**_** – **_**so, naturally, she'll have to practice that in the vanity another twenty or so times; and we all know **_**Harold's**_** the public speaker in the family."**

**She rolled her eyes at me, and then said, "Stop trying to distract me – I'm still telling Constanza."**

**I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes at **_**her**_**; she would be the death of me this woman.**

**XxX**

**When I arrived at the Kindergarten, my daughter by my side, and my husband on her other, Misty was already there with Charles standing just in front of her, like a shield.**

**I smiled at the sight, despite myself, knowing it was all her son's doing.**

**I sidled up to my best friend and she and Harold said their hellos. **

"**Wow, seems like ages," she remarked, holding back a smile.**

"**Doesn't it just," I agreed, matching the look on her face.**

**Then we got down to business.**

"**So, sussed out the who's who yet?" I asked.**

"**Somewhat," she replied, and then proceeded to rattle off a series of names of those around us, directing me every so often to their presence.**

"**How long have you been here?"**

**She shrugged, "Around five minutes or so."**

**I gave her an incredulous look.**

"**What?" she asked. "I work fast."**

"**Don't you just," I muttered.**

**Misty nodded her to the side then, directing my attention over, a look of sheer amusement on her face as she did so.**

**And there were our children; conversing as the wonderful pair they were.**

**I rolled my eyes; she'd clearly corrupted them.**

**x**

**  
"I'm Blair, by the way," my daughter introduced herself, holding out her hand. "Blair **_**Cornelia**_** Waldorf."**

"**I know," I watched him merely responded, eyeing her outstretched hand in what seemed to be thinly veiled amusement, though I noticed the slight nod of the head in appraisal as she uttered her middle name.**

**So, now I knew what they did with all their time when they were at Misty's together, and were left to their own devices. Blair set out a plan, and Charles helped her both extract and perfect it. Wonderful, I thought, I was in the presence of two potentially perfect schemers, and one was my own daughter. I knew my friendship with Misty Bass would come back to bite me in my **_**Eleanor Waldorf Original**_**-behind one day, now I just had to wait for that moment, knowing it involved my only child. I wouldn't have bee surprised if I started to gray right there and then; and I'd be charging the account to one best friend of mine.**

"**The correct response would have been to give me your name," she hmph-ed, retracting her hand, and placing it by her side once more.**

"**I know that, too," he told her, smirking at the infuriated look on her face.**

"**Chu-uck!" Blair whined then. "Why aren't you playing along? You said you would."**

"**Well, I changed my mind," he replied simply, pretending to be bored as he looked around her for something else to occupy his interest – Ha! As if! I shared a look at Misty then, and knew she shared my sentiment.**

"**But you said," my daughter insisted.**

"**And now I'm saying something else."**

"**Chuck, please," she asked of him, Bambi eyes full in place.**

**He rolled his eyes ever-so-dramatically, sighing in a similar fashion also, and then said deliberately, "Oh, alright."**

"**Thank-you, Chuck," she said, positively beaming at him.**

"**Who am I to leave a pretty girl stranded?" he replied to no-one in particular.**

"**Chuck Bass," he announced, taking her hand in his own, a smile on his face as he murmured, "Honored."**

**x**

"**Shall we get cracking then?" I asked, smiling, and raising an eyebrow at her.**

"**I think that would be wise, do you not?" she said, raising her own perfectly styled eyebrow.**

"**Indeed I do," I concurred.**

**And at that we each faced our children, turning each of them round in a different direction, as we said simultaneously.**

"**Charles, come meet Nathaniel Archibald."**

"**Blair, how about you introduce yourself to Serena van der Woodson?"**

**We shared a backwards glance then, as we took our children to meet their future **_**bff's**_**, knowing that two would soon become four. It was only natural, after all, what with Blair and Chuck already acquainted. Besides, girls, boys; it was a natural instinct to migrate towards what was the most appealing in a room, and our children were certainly that.**

**  
"See you later?" she asked, a hopeful lilt to her words.**

"**Of course," I replied easily, and gave her a small smirk of my own.**

**XxX**

"**Oh, and did I mention that he's told me to reiterate to all his teachers, that from this point onwards he is to be known as Chuck Bass – in case they didn't listen to him."**

**I scoffed at that part, "Not likely."**

"**But **_**Chuck**_**?" I said, eyeing her, and trying to decipher what the meaning behind this was.**

"**Yes, Chuck," she repeated. "Apparently, Blair took a likening to my pet name for him, and thinks it suits him, so he'd rather be known as that."**

"**Oh."**

"**Yes, exactly," Misty rolled her eyes.**

**I smiled at her, "Well, if that's all, then I best be off. Attend to my dear daughter and all that."**

**I turned, stepped down from the high stool, and made my way towards the door.**

"**Thank her for her lovely compliments on my son's scarf, will you?" she called to me, still standing behind the island in the kitchen, and I could practically **_**hear**_** the smirk emanating from each word.**

**I turned slowly and met her eyes; "**_**Chuck**_** will be wearing it tomorrow then, I suppose."**

"**However did you guess?" came her amused reply, as she shook her head at the antics of our children.**

**I repeated the action, before turning to continue my path to the front door, calling out a goodbye to Misty as I did so; and hearing her shout to my retreating form, "Bring Blair tomorrow, she's much more entertaining company than you could ever claim to be in the morning."**

**I slammed the door on my best friend's laughter.**

**She was an annoying little bint at times, that one, and what's more; she loved every minute of it.**

**Bitch.**

**And yes, I'm well aware that it takes one to know one.**

**Why do you think we've lasted this long in one another's company?**

**We're two of a kind, my best friend and I.**

TBC…

* * *

A/N: I apologise for the lack of B/C interaction, that should remedy itself in later chapters, but I guess it just depends how they play out et al.

Also, if anyone thinks this is too OOC, I'm just gonna put it down to the fact this was about 20 years ago, people change; especially if you've lost someone close to you, which is basically what happened to Eleanor – and I doubt I'm spoiling anything by saying that since most who've read the two 'prequels' to this know I'm going with the 'Bart is a widower' angle.

Oh, and this is all canon, up to like the last couple of chapters, which have been ruined by S2 promos ;)

Oh, AND I doubt all chaps or even many will be this length – I hadn't intended it, but my fingers got a-typing, an what can I say? They have a mind of their own at times (just check out the length of these author's notes ;) )

I also have to apologise for some of the spacing - it went a bit askew on me :S

Hope you liked, and please let me know what you think – means a lot! (And since it's after 5am in the morning, and I've been at this since midnight, it would _really_ mean a lot! ;) - I'll try correct typos and whatnot in the morning... well, later morning)

Thanks  
Steph  
xxx


	3. Parents,How Alike We Are To Our Children

A/N: I'd just like to say, in fairness to my last post of 3594 words compared to the Prologue's 979, I reckon my monster author's notes added on like a thousand words easy, to that mammoth posting, lol

Oh, and if I get anything wrong or completely _off_ in this chapter, I apologise – you'll just have to suspend belief for the time being, because I'm not in any way American, so I had to sort of… just go with it ;)

Anyway, don't think it quite matched the length, but hope you still enjoy…

* * *

Chapter Two: Parents, How Alike We Are To Our Children

"_Today was… interesting, for want of a better word. It was Parents' Day at Kindergarten, so naturally I was present; making sure my best friend was in attendance too, obviously._

_Besides, I was more than a little certain that I'd probably need the moral support._

_Yes, even I, Misty Bass needed her friend's backing at times. And yes, even at something such as a Kindergarten Parents' Day._

_Having a child like mine would do that to you. Oh, how __**Chuck**__ liked to play."_

x

Eleanor's laughter filled the air at this. "Oh, I remember that day."

Blair raised an eyebrow at her mother, mild amusement displayed on her features.

"_Interesting_, was it?" Chuck smirked from his wife's side.

"Oh, it was most definitely interesting," Eleanor agreed, and launched into her tale.

x

**  
I walked alongside my best friend as we made our way down the length of the hall towards our children's Kindergarten class.**

"**Remind me of why I'm here again?" I hissed, sneaking a glance to our present company on entering the brightly-colored room, and having to refrain from wrinkling my nose in disgust at some of what I saw.**

"**Because you're a wonderful mother who wants to show her daughter just how proud she is of her," Misty rattled off.**

**I narrowed my eyes, muttering, "I could do that just as easily in the confines of my own home."**

"**And because I'm here," she added then, gracing me with a wide smile; I resisted the urge to throttle her on the spot.**

**After greeting the young woman who claimed responsibility for our children in while they were within the very confines in which we stood; we exchanged small talk with Lily and some of the other parents, before the teacher addressed us all.**

**And then she directed us to our seating area.**

"**I am **_**not**_** sitting in **_**that**_**," I said then, adamantly.**

"**Yes," Misty told me, with an easy smile, "You are."**

**I set a heavy glare on her and followed her over to the miniature seats that were arranged round and equally minuscule tables; and yes, I did have to withstand from stabbing her with the damned colored pencil as soon as I took my seat next to her; damn woman loved to torture me. I could've sworn it was one of her most valued pastimes.**

"**I'm paying how much to send my daughter here, and they can't even provide **_**adult-sized**_** chairs?" I muttered then.**

**Misty turned to me and rolled her eyes, "Oh, hush you."**

"**Besides, it'll do you some good to be brought down a peg or two," she added, casting me an amused look, her eyes dancing.**

**I sent her one last cool gaze before redirecting my attention to the young woman before us, smiling brightly.**

**She thanked us all for coming and then proceeded to walk amongst us, zigzagging between tables whilst placing a different piece of colored card in front of each of us.**

**When she had returned to the front of the classroom, she informed us of what she had planned for this specific… activity.**

**"I would like all of you to write down one word that you feel best describes your child," she told us. "And later, we'll be making a love collage out of them."**

**I turned to Misty. "A _love_ collage?"**

**"Stop being anti-kindergarten," Misty admonished me playfully.**

**"I'm not," I replied. "In fact, I think everything you need to know about the law and society you learn in Kindergarten. You know: Don't hit. Don't take what's not yours. Don't kill people. Don't rape them."**

**"Oh, yeah, how could I not remember that lesson. It was right after snack time, wasn't it?" she mocked me, letting out a brief laugh."**

**I rolled my eyes at her, "You know what I mean. It's a social contract."**

**Words rolled through my head like Benjamin's did my daughter's little fingers when she was let loose in a department store.**

**There were so many adjectives swirling inside me, I felt like I was going to get butterflies with the effect they were causing me.**

**What could I say to describe my daughter?**

**That she was stunning?**

**Exceptional?**

**_Breathtaking… ?_**

**Before I could debate it any further, however, a scream reached my ears. I immediately looked over to where I knew my daughter to be: only to see her on the plush violet carpet, chestnut locks spread around her head like a dark halo and her skirt fanned out liked an umbrella shielding her legs; Serena standing over her, hands clasped over her mouth and eyes as large as saucers; Nathaniel seemingly set in stone next to the blonde, his own eyes wide; and Charles kneeling by her side, hand in hers, and his mouth by her ear.**

**I rushed over to her, and immediately asked what happened.**

"**She just… dropped."**

**Charles was the only one to speak, and I saw him cast a quick, apprehensive look at his mother, who was already by my side.**

"**She'll be alright, darling," I heard her say quietly to her son, taking his hand from my daughter's and lifting him into a standing position.**

"**She just needs a little air," she told him, and then cast a glance at the looming bodies shadowing my daughter's petite figure.**

**And then Misty knelt down by Blair's side, and placed both hands on her shoulders, shaking gently.**

"**What are you doing?" I asked her; ignoring how timid my voice sounded then.**

"**Trying to wake our Sleeping Beauty," she told me gently and sent me a reassuring smile.**

**She resumed her moderate shaking of my daughter's body, before I saw a tentative hand reach forward and clasp itself onto Misty's shoulder.**

**It was Charles.**

"**Could I?" he asked, and gestured to Blair with his eyes.**

**Misty nodded, and scooted over to allow room for her son.**

**Instantly he dipped his head down to meet where my daughter's lay, and began whispering in her ear.**

**Somehow, don't ask me how, I managed to hear what he was saying; and behind my initial horror, and mild disgust; I was extremely amused.**

"**Come on, Waldorf, stop making a scene," he whispered, rolling his eyes. "Now you're just attention-seeking, and I thought you said people that did that were low, and crass and didn't deserve your time or effort?"**

"**Or do you want to be like me **_**that**_** much?" he continued, and I could see the smirk on his face.**

**After failing to emit a response from my daughter's prone form, Charles tried another tactic, sighing dramatically, and finally saying, "If you don't wake up right now, I'll tell your mother you kissed me last week."**

**His voice took on a teasing tone then, as he continued, "You know, at the fashion show? When I was listing all the ways you looked really **_**cute**_** in that frock of yours? And you planted a smacker on me, right on the lips, to **_**silence**_** me?"**

**That seemed to rouse Blair almost instantly; who, after an initial momentary confusion, suddenly snapped her eyes wide open, jumped up and stared at the small group that had formed around her, absolutely horror-stricken.**

x

"I can't believe you got me to wake up," Blair commented, looking slightly aghast at the mere concept of such a thing.

That made Eleanor scoff.

"I can't believe **that** got you to wake up," Charles replied, smirking at her, his eyes dancing with mischief and amusement all rolled into one; he was more like his mother than he realized.

She hit him on the arm, muttering, "You're such a perv."

He laughed, pulling her close into him, saying, "Mmm, that may be, but I'm the perv you married."

Blair rolled her eyes, and tried, completely feebly, to pull out of his grasp.

Then she turned to him and said with a smirk, "That's right. And I'm the one you've been perving on since we were six-years-old, so you'd better not forget it."

"As if I ever could?" he replied, and they fell into one another.

Eleanor rolled her eyes; having to watch her daughter practically attack the boy with her lips on her wedding day was bad enough, having to watch her do it on her own couch, while sitting right in front of her was another thing entirely.

After a moment, she cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow at the young newlyweds, and asked, "Shall we continue?"

x

**  
"It's alright, Blair. You… passed out there for a minute. But it's nothing to be worried about," I hear Misty tell her soothingly, still kneeling.**

"**It's my fault, really," she continued, and I saw her laugh lightly, watching Blair closely.**

"**I kept you up late helping me model all those fashion pieces," she explained, and I watched Blair nod her head.**

"**You must have been exhausted," Misty commented.**

**My daughter gave her a shaky smile, nodding once more.**

**Then she found her voice, her eyes never leaving Misty's, "I was. You had me model every piece you had. **_**And**_** I forgot to take my vitamins this morning."**

**My best friend laughed at this, agreeing with everything Blair was saying.**

"**Why don't you sit down for a minute, hmm?" Misty suggested, and gestured to a chair, much like the ones we had each been sitting in mere moments prior.**

"**And what about a glass of water?" She turned and raised an expectant eyebrow at the young boy standing beside her, who nodded instinctively and scuttled off to fetch said drink; strands of his dirty-blonde hair streaming across his forehead as he did so.**

**When Blair was settled, hands clasped firmly round the cup of water, and with a reassuring smile from Misty, we turned to go back to our seats.**

**I caught the smirk playing across my best friend's face then, as she told me, "You should be proud, Eleanor. You're daughter's a natural."**

**I rolled my eyes at her, and the little stunt they'd pulled back there, though I was secretly grateful for it. My daughter was like me when it came to public 'disturbances'; we felt they shouldn't apply to us, tried our damndest to avoid them at all costs, and were never completely sure how to react when they crept up on us when we were least expecting it – another thing that should never befall a Waldorf woman, being caught unawares.**

"**Just what I wanted to hear at my daughter's Kindergarten day. Well, Mrs. Waldorf, Blair's showing considerable aptitude in class, but don't worry, any failing's she has are masked by the fact she's a born deceiver."**

"**How reassuring," I told her scathingly, and shot her a look, to which she just laughed, **_**naturally**_**.**

**x**

**"Wow, I've never met anyone who fainted before," a smug little voice played through the air behind us.**

**Our heads snapped around at this; catching onto Charles as he whirled round, his face falling into an easy snarl, as he growled at her, "She obviously had an error in judgment and looked at your face."**

"**Charles," Misty reprimanded, giving him a stern look, and watched him retract; though extremely reluctantly.**

"**Yeah, **_**Charles – **_**" the girl sneered, her eyes so dark I nearly choked at the thought of her wearing a thick black mascara, outlined by a thick coating of eyeliner of the same color, at the age of **_**six**_**; how… cheap gothic. I then had to quickly stifle a laugh at the thought of her as some sort of demonized child by day, vampire by night.**

"**Yes?" I heard Misty's expectant voice break through my thoughts, and saw her send a pointed look at the young female-incarnated Marilyn Manson. "Something you wish to share?"**

**The little girl's eyes narrowed, but she was no match for Misty. After all, this was a woman who spent most of her time hanging around with the likes of Big Bad Bart Bass; Mr-I-can-only-display-the-range-of-about-two-emotions: _'I will crush you if you continue speaking and/or or acting in that utterly ridiculous manner while in my presence'_ and _'You are infinitely inferior to me, start acting like it'_.**

**Not to mention the abundant clock time I'd put in with her. I swear, she was wasted dealing with the likes of those one-sided models; whose only _real_ (I use the word loosely, even here) contribution to life was that they had been graced with enough presence and outward 'beauty' that deemed them suitable enough to sell products, and happened put them on a scale of things that were aesthetically pleasing on the eyes. And that wasn't really saying much, since my own daughter counted a black, white and red monogrammed silk scarf among her favorite things to look at.**

**"I thought as much," Misty commented, and then turned and began to walk back to her seat.**

**x**

**Suddenly a hand came into my peripheral vision, and I looked down to see Misty's own interpretation appearing before me, forming far different letters than what I had.**

**A deep purple scrawl found its way across my blossom pink script, reading: **_**Perfect.**_

**I looked up to see my best friend smiling at me, her eyes full of sincerity, and **_**love**_**.**

**And I nodded.**

**Because, in all honesty, my daughter really was perfect. In every sense of the word.**

**Blair was perfect.**

**My reverie was broken by said daughter's raised voice making its way to my ears, from all the way over in the far corner of the classroom. Diverting my gaze to her petite form, and frowning, I tried to decipher what was happening.**

**Blair's small face was crinkled into a glare, I'd have to warn her about the continued effects of her doing that, and she was staring another girl down; despite her obvious height disadvantage. I recognized her as the same girl who'd been baiting Charles earlier, after Blair had… passed out. Waldorf's do not faint; they lose consciousness.**

**The darker brunette held an impassive look as the two continued eyeing one another.**

**That was when I saw Charles enter the scene. He strolled over, with all the confidence of a boy who was fully prepared to battle the Devil himself and emerge unscathed as well as victorious. He stopped in the spot right next to my daughter; hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, looking every bit at ease with whatever was going on around him.**

**I watched his lips part, doubted I wanted to imagine the words spilling from them; and then saw the other girl's face fall a little. I observed as her mouth dropped open, before she quickly shut it again, and then proceeded to mutter seemingly angry words at the two of them, though I noticed they were more directed towards my best friend's son than my own daughter this time; and then she turned on her heel and stomped angrily away.**

**My attention returned to my daughter and her 'rescuer' then. I watched him turn to her with a wide smirk clearly displayed across his lips, face a picture of clear amusement.**

**And then I saw the smirk spread, contagious, over my daughter's face.**

**I released a small laugh at what I had just witnessed; sheer disbelief I assure you, though I suppose it shouldn't have really surprised me.**

**As much as I wanted to deny it: my best friend and I shared many traits together, as did our children, it seemed. But nothing was so apparent in that moment, as that shared between mother and child.**

**And so, I reached over and wrote on my best friend's green card, with an identical purple scrawl: **_**Mine.**_

**Misty's eyes dropped to the word on her card, and she laughed. Then she sought mine out, and sent me a smile. Her hand found mine, and she squeezed, gently, reassuringly, and I returned the sentiment.**

**God, we were a pair of complete saps.**

X

"_It turned out that Eleanor was the one in need of support._

_Charles was uncharacteristically… __**subdued**__ today. A slightly worrying concept in itself._

_The drama mainly surrounded Blair at this event, but then, she is a Waldorf, I shouldn't have expected anything less._

_Of course, my son __**was**__ involved, naturally, just not as deeply as usual – or so I'm choosing to think._

_I have a certain suspicion that he may be __**corrupting**__ Blair, as Eleanor would put it, Lord forbid. Though, I have my doubts that she's entirely innocent in the whole affair. _

_They're rather alike, my son and Blair. Much like Eleanor and I._

_They still share that same mysterious look in their eyes. Only now, it's been joined with a mischievous sparkle and knowing glint."_

X

"**Is that really true, Mommy?" Blair asked me, virtually as soon as we'd stepped out of the elevator.**

"**Because Georgina Sparks said – "**

**"How many times have I told you not to repeat what that wretched girl says?" I cut her off before she could say anymore. "That girl is a pathological liar."**

"**Does she even know what 'pathological' **_**means**_**?" Misty's voice joined us then, and I looked over to see her watching us with an amused expression displayed on her face; from her **_**relaxed**_** place, lounging on our sofa.**

"**It means caused by or… evi-den-cing a mentally **_**disturbed**_** condition. In **_**this**_** case, it refers to a person who can't help but lie about everything and anything they say," my daughter responded matter-of-factly, as we walked into the living room.**

"**Have you been letting her read the dictionary again?" Misty inquired; turning her raised eyebrow from Blair to me.**

**I merely shrugged, ignoring this, as I replied, "I can't help it, she gets bored."**

**Misty just rolled her eyes at me, though I knew she secretly loved this sort of stuff.**

**We all had our own little quirks, and she loved discovering that we each held just as many as she herself. **

"**So, Georgina's wrong?" Blair spoke up after a moment.**

"**Yes," I replied shortly.**

**A small self-satisfied smile appeared on my daughter's face at that, and she commented, "I thought so. Chuck told me she was psycho and didn't know any better. I knew he was right."**

**Then she suddenly turned to both Misty and I and said in a deadly serious tone, "Do **_**not**_** tell him I said that."**

**I raised my eyebrows at her, face no doubt the epitome of amusement, while Misty just laughed.**

"**Consider your secret safe with us," she managed to splutter out.**

"**Good," Blair replied, smiling happily once more.**

"**I'm away to call Serena and tell her that her new best friend belongs in a mental instution," she told us, almost gleefully, and skipped up the stairs to her bedroom.**

**We were too busy trying not to fall over ourselves with laughter to correct her on her pronunciation. I told you Misty Bass was a bad influence on me. Though I hardly discouraged her; think how boring things would be if I did that.**

"_Yes, our children are definitely suited."_

TBC…

* * *

A/N: Part of the 'Parents' Day' idea stemmed from a small section in 'Nineteen Minutes' and some of the dialogue was either altered, or inspired by that specific part too. Not all came from there, mind, but some did, so base credit really goes to Jodi Picoult for that.

"I would like all of you to write down one word that you feel best describes your child." "And later, we'll be making a love collage out of them." "A _love_ collage?" "Stop being anti-kindergarten." "I'm not," I replied. "In fact, I think everything you need to know about the law and society you learn in Kindergarten. You know: Don't hit. Don't take what's not yours. Don't kill people. Don't rape them." "Oh, yeah, how could I not remember that lesson. It was right after snack time, wasn't it?" "You know what I mean. It's a social contract." – Slightly altered from 'Nineteen Minutes'

"Wow, I've never met anyone who fainted before." "She obviously had an error in judgment and looked at your face." – Inspired by/Altered from 'Stand By Me'

The rest is mine ;)

Eeek, so apparently, it turns out I can in fact right a chapter just as long, if not longer than the previous. Apologies for the length, it was not meant to go on for as long as it did – see excuse before though.  
This should make up for its lateness though, no? ;)

Also, apologies for any typos et al, but I tried to get this up before it hit midnight, so I'll try correct them tomorrow :)

Apologies, too, for the lack of Misty input, but the Eleanor parts sort of took over. I'm fairly certain it'll change as the chapters go on, but possibly not... though there should be more Chuck/Blair input - discounting their input in the memories part ;) But we shall have to see... :)

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading – please let me know what you thought.  
Steph  
xxx


	4. Apparently We're Descended From The Apes

A/N: Bold type is memories (Eleanor's P.O.V), Italics are diary entries (Misty's P.O.V) and normal type is Eleanor/Blair/Chuck interaction in the present day.

* * *

Chapter Three: Apparently We're Descended From The Apes

"_As I write this I'm sitting in a ridiculously uncomfortable chair (especially considering the wing I'm currently occupying practically has my name on it) by my son's hospital bedside._

_What happened you ask? If only I knew._

_What I do know is that my son was partaking in something particularly un-__**Chuck**__-like, and I was betting on a certain chestnut-curled, wide-eyed seven-year-old by the name of Blair Waldorf having something to do with this sudden… shift of opinions._

_Because my son did not participate in such 'trivial' things as sports, much to my chagrin. Discounting the odd times during the summer to appease his dear mother, that is I, or the mandatory gym lessons that for some reason he simply couldn't wriggle his way out of. Chuck Bass had no interest in that sort of physical exertion._

_And yet he climbed to a height of nearly 12 feet, unaided, and apparently of his own free will._

_The mystery my son and his best friend held in their eyes was really starting to become overkill at this point."_

x

"**Am I allowed to laugh yet?" **

**Misty fixed me with a glare. "No."**

"**Oh, come on, Mist," I said, exasperated, and not even bothering to hide my wide smile. "He fell out of a tree. A tree, for God's sake!"**

"**How often does that happen?" I asked, unable to help from beaming at her now.**

"**A tree," I repeated, chuckling to myself.**

"**Admit it, you'd be laughing at it yourself if you weren't sitting next to him, watching him breathe through a tube – "**

"**Exactly!" she exclaimed, looking at me with one of those pointed looks of hers; they were really rather commanding in their own right. But I persevered.**** I'd been on the receiving end enough times to be able to shrug it off… after a few moments.**

"**The doctors said they'd remove it when he wakes up. If he hadn't gone and reacted so – "**

"**What did you expect him to do? He was surrounded by people he didn't know, then wheeled straight into a room where he was immediately put into a huge circular encased _dome _that flashes repeatedly, sounds as if it's about to shoot a bullet at you any moment, and has to be one of the most terrifying machines ever."**

"**Well… ok, fine, I'll let him off with that one, but the falling out of a tree stays!" I told her. "That's too good to let slide, and you know it."**

"**If you're just going to carry on like that, you'd best leave. I'm not in the mood for it right now, Eleanor," she said simply, giving me a tired, exasperated look.**

"**My son is lying a hospital bed, with half of his major limbs broken or seriously disjointed, he's breathing through a tube; my husband is at least a twelve hour flight away and my best friend is doing nothing to ease my comfort!" she suddenly burst out with; her gaze caught me right in the eyes and remained unwavering throughout.**

**I was in the seat next to her in an instant, my arm round her, as I said, "I apologize, Misty. You know how I get in situations out with my control, I – "**

"**Yes, you say stupid things usually reserved for me," she replied, lifting up her head, and wiping away the tears from her cheeks.**

"**He'll be ok, Mist," I murmured softly into her hair, as I kissed her head affectionately. "He's tough – he climbed a tree for God's sake."**

" – **And then promptly fell out of it," she said, and let out a brief laugh, muffled by flowing tears.**

"**And it wasn't for God's sake, it was for your **_**daughter's**_**," she told me, giving me a pointed look.**

**"Blair?" I asked, brow furrowing in slight confusion.**

**What on Earth? Actually, I didn't really want to know. Sometimes it's best to adopt the mode of: _Ignorance is bliss_ when it comes to my daughter and her best friend; that way I am usually able to retain cognitive functions in my brain. Naturally, Misty didn't care for this and immediately opened her mouth to launch into her spiel about her and him, and whatever other nonsense she liked to read into their friendship. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at this; they were _seven_ for God's sake. What hold could they possibly have over one another?**

**Ok, so maybe I was a **_**little**_** curious. But you can't exactly blame me. The boy supposedly climbed twelve feet up a tree for her; now what the **_**Hell**_** provokes that sort of reaction in someone? My daughter, apparently.**

**Oh, God help me. **

"**Yes, **_**Blair**_**," Misty told me with a roll of the eyes, as she wiped at the salt river meandering down her cheeks; ooh, that's a good one. I might have to file it away for later use. Salt river meandering… yes, that **_**is**_** good, I like it.**

"**Apparently the EMT's had an awful time of it trying to get him to release a certain **_**bear**_** as well as a pink butterfly balloon. Now, I don't know about you, but neither of those items particularly screams **_**Chuck **_**to me."**

"**And don't you dare mention him being gay," she warned.**

**I held up my hands in mock defense, "I didn't say anything."**

"**No, but you were going to," she said knowingly; and I rolled my eyes, relenting.**

"**So you think my daughter somehow managed to get your son to not only climb a tree, but to then keep two of her most recently coveted possessions for her?" I asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow.**

**Perfectly waxed and styled features can do that, you know; display emotions so you don't have to. It's really quite ingenious, and energy-saving. Many a time goes by when I forget to pay homage to such influential details; I'll have to make a note to do it more often; who knows when they could falter in their stride and leave me having to actually exert energy at the expense of my own muscular movement.**

"**You're barking mad, Misty," I chastised her. "Do you even release who you're talking about? The tow of them bicker more than you and I, and we're practically an old-married-couple!"**

"**You don't give them nearly enough credit," she merely commented, and gave me a look: this one said, '**_**Stop playing the naïve card and acting like you don't notice; I know you, you little harpy, and your mind works in an all too similar way to my own.**_**'**

**And yes, my friend can really express that much with one single look.**

**It's a talent of hers; much like my all-too-talented, but sadly all-too-often-overlooked, eyebrows.**

**Us Upper East Sider's are just gifted with traits only fit for superior beings such as ourselves; what can I say? Darwin's theory clearly favored us in the process of natural selection. (See what an Upper East Side education can do for you? Allow you to quote and recall, with perfect accuracy I might add, High School Biology lessons from… a few years prior – I'm not **_**that**_** old, you cheeky witch.)**

"**Alright, fine. So, let's just say that's true. Why on earth would he climb the tree in the first place?" I asked, sighing, and giving her an expectant look.**

"**Heck if I know, but your daughter has an impressive mind on her as well as a quick tongue, I'm sure she could've spun quite the tale," Misty said, raising an eyebrow at me.**

**I rolled my eyes, "As if yours is any less deserving of such a description."**

"**But seriously, Misty – A tree? What was he trying to do? Audition for a role as Mowgli in the Jungle Book?" I questioned then, because, let's be honest, I'd held back long enough by now.**

**It started as a choke, then a cough, and finally the laughter was bubbling over her lips and she was looking at me with nothing short of amazement and amusement on her face, as she said, "My son fell out a tree. A tree, Eleanor. What the Heck was he doing climbing a tree in the first place?"**

**"Yes, well, I expect he won't be doing it again anytime soon, if his first attempt is anything to go by," I commented. "He'd be really useful a Christmas time, though. Just make sure he pulls the top of the tree down with him next time so I can at least have a nice decoration for the living room."**

**Her laughter simply increased at this, and I beamed at her in return, as she repeated, "My son fell out a tree, Eleanor. Oh my word, I don't think I'll ever be able to look at one the same again. A tree, for Heaven's sake!"**

"**Well, I hope he realizes he'll have to buy you something extra special when he gets out of here to make up for your continued trauma surrounding your inability to feel the same way about flora and fauna as you did previously. Compensation's only fair for what you've gone through, and it's expected too," I rattled off, completely serious.**

"**Oh Eleanor," she fell against me with a sigh, and a small, easy smile; her head dropping onto my shoulder.**

**She tilted her chin up and looked at me through half-sleep-laden eyes, as she murmured, "What would I do without you?"**

"**Have someone else tell you to have your PA send a sizeable check to the NYFD and see that they stop rescuing cats from up trees and start looking for children instead?" I asked, my lips quirking up into a smile.**

"**I love you," she breathed out, and I felt her arms encircle me, holding me close.**

"**I love you, Misty Bass," I murmured into her hair, giving her another affectionate kiss in the same spot. "_Always_."**

**She was already asleep; ****I settled in for a long day.**

x

"I can't believe _my own mother_ laughed at my misfortune," Chuck huffed as soon as Eleanor had finished.

"Actually, scratch that, I can. The woman was evil, pure evil," he said, giving Eleanor a pointed look.

The elder woman merely raised her eyes at that, "Is that so?"

The young man scoffed at that, "Don't pretend like you don't remember what she pulled on my return home."

A small chuckle escaped Eleanor's lips then, as she murmured, "_Oh yes…_"

x

"_I think Bart nearly had a heart attack when he saw what I'd done with the place. _

_He merely raised his perfectly formed eyebrows at me, however, and asked what the occasion was._

"_Why, our son's homecoming, of course," I replied, giving him a smile._

_He eyed me for a moment before shaking his head; I think he's long since abandoned trying to discover where my head was at._

"_Of course," he murmured in return._

"_And you're quite sure Charles will appreciate this, are you?" he queried, raising an intrigued eyebrow at me once again._

"_Quite," I responded, and gave him that same smile once more._

_He sighed, and rolled his eyes this time, before taking two steps towards me and wrapping his arms around me. "He's turning out to be far too like you," he murmured, head dipped down to meet my eyes with his own; oh, how I loved moments like these._

_They were our moments; and I craved them. They were rare, and more often than not impromptu, and sometimes even committed under the banner of 'wrong place, wrong time'; but I loved them all the same. Because they were mine; because they were his. Because we loved one another and this was how we showed one another._

"_On the contrary, I'd say he was more like you, dear husband," I said, amusedly._

"_Don't you remember a particularly grand gesture that took place, within our own time, well above ground-level? What was it again?" I asked, my face no doubt the picture of pure entertainment. "Was it a certain gentleman standing on top of the stairs at – "_

_He groaned, muttering, "And that would be my cue to leave."_

"_I hadn't even got to the good part yet!" I complained as I watched his figure retreat._

"_Exactly!" he called back, and I sniggered._

_Bass men weren't known for displaying their feelings; and when they did, they preferred to pretend they hadn't; or at least, they liked to act as if they hadn't done it in such a way as they had. Because Bass men could be counted on for their grand gestures; only sometimes they were seemingly so subtle or masked behind a myriad of other endeavours, that their true aim wasn't always seen until much later._

_I'd have damned my husband to Hell the moment he ruined my Cotillion if I hadn't realised later that it was his way of showing he cared."_

x

**  
"Do I really want to know?" I asked, as I stepped into the foyer.**

****

"Probably not, though I'm fairly certain your _meager_ intelligence allows you at least _one_ educated guess," Misty replied, a smile on her face; her eyes twinkling with delightful mischief.

**I rolled my eyes at her, saying, "And you chastised _me_ for teasing the poor boy during his… plight."**

"**I'm his mother, it's expected," she commented, and sent me a smug smile at that.**

"**And what does that make me?" I asked.**

"**The hedge-trimmer?" she queried, sending me an innocent smile.**

**She didn't even have the chance to duck before I'd thrown one of the throw cushions at her. And it made a direct hit, I might add.**

**Her laughter cut through the air, and we stood smiling at each other, no more than four feet apart.**

"**You know he's probably going to pitch a fit when he sees this," I commented, casting a glance at the surrounding area.**

"**No, he won't," Misty replied, in a 'don't-be-so-ridiculous' tone. "He's not you."**

**I rolled my eyes at her amused look, as she said, "He'll stare at it; look at me as if he's trying to decipher whether I'm serious or not, and then he'll try and work out whether he thinks I belong in the Ostroff Center. And _then_, he'll roll his eyes at me, honor me with the smallest of smiles and promptly walk away; all the while making it known that he is so far above what has just gone on, **_**obviously.**_**"**

**And that is precisely what he did: when he walked, well, **_**crutched**_** his way into the atrium of his home, and found it overcome with flora and fauna; ivy spiraling the marble staircase, flowers littering the floor; and a banner that read "Welcome to the Jungle", held between two large inflatable monkeys, that were suspended from fully grown trees on either side of the landing at the top of the staircase.**

"**I thought you might want to perfect your climbing skills," his mother's amused voice was heard from beside him, and he turned to her, and stared.**

**And as was her response to many things; Misty laughed.**

**x**

"It was a rather wonderful stroke of genius," Blair commented, a small smile tugging at her lips, threatening to split into a bout of laughter.

Chuck near-gawked at her, "You can't be serious."

"Deadly," she replied, simply giving him a look.

Then she said with a small smirk, "Just because it was performed by your mother doesn't make it any less ingenious."

"It's _because_ it was performed by my mother that I'm retracting its 'genius' factor," he responded.

Blair rolled her eyes at her husband, "Now you're just being childish. Your mother was brilliant, and you damn well know it."

"Why d'you think I always seemed to migrate to you whenever I wanted to have a stimulating conversation, intellectual or otherwise?" she mused, sending him an expectant look.

"Because of my scintillating wit and delightful nature?" he tried, complete with fully-fledged smirk.

"Both of which you inherited from your mother," Blair told him, a smug look on her face. "Admit it."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, and accompanied the theatrics with a heavy sigh, turning to his new bride and relenting, "Fine. Some of my… _stunning_ characteristics may have been my mother's influence."

"But they were refined with a charm and decorum that only _I_ could possess," Chuck ended, with a brilliant smirk.

Blair rolled her eyes, before giving him a mock-pointed look at the words, "And only tolerated by a fool such as I."

"Oh hush, woman, you know you love it," Chuck told her.

"Correction: I love you, _despite_ it," Blair countered simply.

"Whatever, you love me, which automatically means you love the Chuck Bass charm and all the exultation that comes with," he commented, even going so far as to raise his eyebrows suggestively at her, the ever-prominent-smirk in place.

"Oh God, you really are too much like her," Eleanor's voice broke through then.

"Stop ruining the moment, Eleanor," Chuck muttered.

Then added, with a smirk, "She wouldn't approve."

And at that he swooped down and caught his wife's lips in his own.

x

"_My husband had long since learned to tolerate me; my best friend liked to ignore these little bouts of insanity of mine; my son still looked undecided on whether I was completely off my rocker or not; and my son's best friend… she looked oddly impressed by me._

_Of course, I caught the glance she sent my son's way as soon as she'd finished observing me; the look of realization that overcame her features; the smirk that followed as her eyes trailed my path and my son's shadow._

_She thinks too highly of this family at times, I think; and she's too smart for her own good as well._

_Now if only that was something she shared with her own mother... "_

TBC...

* * *

Well, this one's a good 500-words less than the previous, roughly, but it's still a decent-enough length, no?

I'm currently trying to write the next chapter, but I don't think I'll be able to get it finished and posted tonight or even tomorrow morning.

I'm away up North for 4/5 days as of then so I don't know if I'll be able to update again before sun/mon – sorry!  
I shall try and write the next part and post it before then, however I bought GG on dvd and I'm visiting my best friend and it's sort of our tradition to watch it together, and after restraining myself for 2 days I might just be ready to rip off the cover and watch all 18 eps straight; amid much encouragement from said _bff_ ;)  
Also, we're sort of engaging in a painting-extravaganza which will most likely take up most of my time, as I'll no doubt be distracted by the demonized being I'm visiting and end up having a paint fight and having to spend another 30 quid on more paint, so how much typing I'll be able to get done between paintbrush splatters or paint balloon bombs is sort of unknown at this point.

Lol, sorry for the ramble, and the life story, but basically if I don't update as regularly as norm I'll have the next one up sun/mon – hope that's not too long a wait! ;)

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think – means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


	5. Death By Sharing?

Apologies for the wait, I was visiting a friend for the past week, and decorating my flat, and generally partaking in a range of completely random activities that are only possible in the country where said friend lives - away from my laptop, unfortunately :  
Hopefully the length of this will make up for the wait though :)

Enjoy...

A/N: Bold type memories (Eleanor's P.O.V), Italics Diary entries (Misty's P.O.V), normal present Chuck/Blair/Eleanor chat

* * *

Chapter Four: A Problem Shared Will Likely Be The Cause Of My Death

"_Chuck got detention today. That makes three this week; and it's only Wednesday._

_I'm still waiting on Blair to change him. To have some of that inherent goodness of hers rub off on him._

_Though I'm beginning to wonder when she'll start working her magic._

_I'm hoping it'll be soon. I'm not sure how many more of Bart's 'looks' either of us can take._

_And I have a parent-teacher meeting at his school tomorrow._

_Joy._

_Apparently my son's latest detention was a result of him "defending the honor of one, Blair Waldorf". At least that was his excuse after it was proven that he had in fact shoved Georgina Sparks into a wall during a game of tag. Though, naturally, he claimed she'd simply tripped over him in her new shoes; I expected nothing less. Of course the fact that he offered the advice that maybe next time that'd teach her not to wear "__**Hooker heels**__" during a game of __**Cops and Robbers**__ didn't much help his cause._

_The scary thing, however, was that Blair backed him up. Her efforts proved futile, though, and he was punished all the same; though I do have my suspicions that this was actually as a result of him opening his smart mouth and letting his wicked tongue run riot. After all, the word of a Waldorf was worth its weight in… well, it was worth a new hockey pitch if they played their cards right._

_I'm beginning to think he's rubbing off more on her, than she is on him._

_And all I have to say to that is: Lord. Help. Me._

_I think Eleanor might actually kill me if that happens._

_She's already got his smirk down pat, not to mention the eyes: oh Lord, the eyes._

_The minute she starts talking like him I'm taking an extended vacation abroad. No discussion. And I won't be staying in a Bass-owned hotel either; no Sir, that'll only make it easier for her to track me. Sweet Lord, she'll reduce me to flying Business. I can see it now. (I'm planning on saying a multitude of prayers tonight that it won't be any more demeaning than that; surely she wouldn't demote me to a level only worthy of __**Economy**__? Though, I have to admit, if she succeeded on that front, I'd probably send her a congratulatory card; it would be quite a feat after all, one even as commendable as to launch a champagne celebration. Of course I'd only be in attendance via satellite phone, and the card would be sent right before I hopped borders and then probably jumped across another few country divider-lines; can never be too careful you know, mail-order and postage tracking and all that. Can't pay for a good evidence trail disappearance these days. And Eleanor Waldorf was an exceptionally resourceful woman when the mind took her. I really need to choose __**less intelligent**__ friends in future.)_

_Of course, I'd be fine right now. I reckon, at least, anyway. What with my best friend finding it hard to even form a coherent sentence at the moment, due to her incessant laughter. I swear, the moment she heard that the Sparks girl had broken her nose she'd been off; that was ten minutes ago, and since then all I've managed to get out of her is laughter, and the struggling words, "… Broken nose means panda eyes… now she'll really be like Marilyn Manson's love child," amid even more laughter._

_And people think __**I'm**__ the crazy one."_

X

My son-in-law's smirk told me he remembered that day.

"Why, Eleanor, I never knew you felt so strongly about our dear _Georgie_," he commented derisively.

I rolled my eyes, "It appears there is much you have yet to find out much about me, _Charles_."

It was his turn to employ the typical eye-roll that I had come to accustom with his late mother; yes, she really did use it that often, in my company or not – the woman was more predictable than she thought. Or maybe I just knew her that well.

What a scary thought.

"Care to fill us in on what went down on your end, Eleanor?" he asked, smirking expectantly at me.

"Yes, mother, do share," my daughter joined in then; and I saw the matching quirk of the lips on her face.

"Oh, Lord," I said, groaning slightly. "You two really are far too suited for either of your own good."

They merely grinned at one another in response to this.

X

**"Fancy accompanying me?" Misty asked me after a moment's silence, a rare occurrence in itself in this woman's presence. And she wondered why her son ran riot when she could barely sit still for a minute.**

**I looked up from the array of sketches on the table before me and fitted her with a perfectly raised eyebrow.**

"**Accompany you where, exactly?" I asked.**

"**To my son's **_**arraignment**_**," she answered me with a roll of the eyes. "To this silly parent-teacher meeting I'm scheduled to have with his teacher, **_**Mrs. Jennings**_**, later today."**

"**Oh, that," I deadpanned. "No."**

**I turned my attention back to my work.**

**"Oh, come on. You know how much you'd enjoy it," Misty tried.**

"**And we could even tell her we've decided to become life-partners," she ended, flashing mea wide smile. "Think of what she'd make of that – or try to anyway."**

"**How about no?" I said.**

**Misty rolled her eyes at me again, this time huffing, "Fine. Though you know Harold would find it highly amusing."**

**I shot her a dark look.**

**She lifted her hands in mock defense, relenting, "Alright, alright. I'll go on my own."**

"**How did you ever make it this far without me?" I queried.**

**She opened her mouth to no doubt give me a smart answer, when the sound of my phone ringing stopped her.**

**I hung up a few moments later, and turned to look at my best friend.**

"**Well, as it turns out, I will be accompanying you to said parent-teacher meeting this afternoon," I told her. "Apparently the woman would like to discuss my daughter's recent behavior with me."**

**"Really? How… quaint," she remarked, doing nothing to hide the amused look on her face or the smirk that tugged at her lips.**

"**Mmm, quaint indeed," I said, pursing my lips and sending her an exasperated look before returning my attention back to my work.**

**X**

**"My daughter is a very special little girl," I said to the woman seated behind the desk; and pretended I hadn't sent the look that passed over my best friend's face at the words, or knew the thoughts no doubt playing through her mind; _Special. Is that what it's called these days?_**

**"Indeed she is," the older female replied, giving me a small, reassuring smile.**

"**However, as of late, her behavior has become more… how can I put it…?" she searched for the correct wording.**

"**Why don't you just phrase it in the most succinct way possible?" I suggested, giving her a thin smile.**

**She nodded, and complied with, "Blair has become quite the **_**smart-ass**_**."**

**I'm more than certain my eyes snapped wide open at this, though they fell into a narrow gaze rather quickly after.**

**Misty tried to hide her release of laughter behind a cough, but I knew better and shot her a glare.**

"**Are you trying to say that my daughter, my prefect little angel, straight A-student, is not so?" I questioned then.**

"**Not exactly," she told me. "Her grades are as good as ever, her behavior in class still impeccable."**

"**It is her activities **_**out**_** of class, however, that are cause for concern."**

"**Which brings me to why I have called **_**you**_** here, Mrs. Bass," she turned to my best friend. "I believe Charles to be the cause of it."**

"_**Chuck**_**," Misty started by correcting, (ignoring my scoff of, "Well, that's just wonderful."), and fit the woman with a set look.**

"**And I resent your insinuation that my son has been leading Miss Waldorf astray. I am more than a little certain that that pretty little head of hers is there for more reason than to play housekeeper to those gorgeous curls that are no doubt lying in wait for their crown of jewels."**

"**Our children are smart, Mrs. Jennings. They think for themselves, and are more often than not, a greater influence on one another than either realize," Misty continued.**

"**Be that as it may, Mrs. Bass, Blair wasn't previously getting caught for partaking in punishable activities," the woman replied shortly.**

**Misty turned her head to the side dismissively, and rolled her eyes, muttering, "Not getting caught doesn't mean not partaking in; she's merely become sloppy."**

**I shot her a brief glare at that; my daughter was nothing if not meticulous in everything she did.**

"**Yes, well…" Mrs. Jennings trailed off. "To the matters at hand, perhaps?"**

**I nodded, and saw Misty merely give her an expectant raise of the eyebrows; I suppose one got used to this sort of thing.**

**Our children were forever showcasing talents that we ourselves possessed. For example: my daughter could be far too underhanded for my liking at times; not that I wasn't proud, **_**of course**_**; merely… a little perturbed by the age at which said quality was presenting itself.**

**Misty, however, couldn't be any more proud by her son's actions. He was just like her, though she'd rarely admit to being the source of some of his… talents, and she loved nothing more than to see the little rapscallion run wild and create carefully perfected havoc in his wake. Because, you see, that is exactly what Chuck Bass did. Even before he had reached his current **_**tender **_**age of eight years old, he had perfected the art of constructing controlled chaos. And it was an art, to be sure.**

**One he'd apparently learned from his mother and passed onto my daughter.**

**Though I knew there had to be some of my own influence in there somewhere and it was doubtful my daughter was **_**entirely**_** innocent; but a mother could dream, right? Besides, why place blame on my own part or Blair's when Chuck seemed only too happy to take the credit himself, while his mother glowed with pride from her place behind him.**

**I swear that woman was deranged at times.**

**The relation of this to the fact she was my best friend was not lost on me.**

**Nor was the notion that **_**my daughter**_** was already adopting traits far too closely mimicking her and her son.**

**It was bound to happen sooner or later; at least this way I supposed I could merely pass the blame onto another party.**

**Innocence is a part we Waldorf's suit well; guilt is unbecoming, after all.**

**At least that was something Misty and I had in common.**

**I pretended I had nothing to do with it, while she lapped up all that came with such accountability.**

**We worked rather well together.**

**And so it seemed did our children.**

"**Yesterday he pushed over a girl during a simple game of **_**tag**_**, and she broke her nose. And then when confronted about it, he lied – deliberately, and to a teacher's face, no less," Mrs. Jennings told Misty; who I could tell was trying mightily hard to resist rolling her eyes, if only for politeness' sake.**

"**And then he dragged Blair into his deception also!" she raved on, but I'd already heard the story, from both sides, the day prior and as far as I was concerned it had been dealt with; no need to rehash past indiscretions, now was there?**

**  
I'd zoned out during Mrs. Jennings rant, because when my attention returned she seemed to be midway through a list, a rather **_**long**_** list, of things Chuck was responsible for; apparently, they were all punishable offenses.**

"… **So you see, he's tried to swindle more slick stories past myself and other teachers in this past term than most con artists do in a lifetime!" she exclaimed.**

"**I hope you're not suggesting my son will amount to nothing more than a petty thief, Mrs. Jennings," Misty remarked, her eyes narrowing in the slightest of movements.**

"**Of course not, Mrs. Bass, only stating you son's nature as a compulsive liar," she replied.**

**My best friend turned up her nose at this, commenting, "All in the eyes of the beholder. I see **_**creativity**_** counts for nothing these days."**

**The teacher sighed and continued, "Only last week, he failed a whole series of tests that were laid out for the class, and then on the last day he handed in his paper and he had one answer, just one – and the simplest, easiest question no less – wrong; and he smirked at me the whole time as he did it. Smirked!"**

**A smirk appeared on Misty's own face then, and I knew exactly why; Friday of the previous week, the day her son had pulled that particular stunt, was her husband's birthday. Evidently, the boy was a damn sight smarter than people tended to give him credit for. After all, make Bart Bass happy; you make everything else around him happy. Say what you want about him; but Chuck knew what he was doing, boy had his wits about him that was for sure.**

"**He is constantly pulling pranks, as well you know," Mrs. Jennings went on. "Letting the science frogs loose in the girls bathroom… filling the classroom fish-tank to the brim with sand the playground… convincing the Phys Ed teacher for two whole weeks that he was unable to do gym because an aversion to the cold prevented him from removing his scarf, and he simply couldn't be expected to perform physical activities with such a garment on – the list is endless!"**

"**And his history report on Ancient Rome, which I mentioned during our last meeting, well, **_**that**_** is a perfect example of such a stunt."**

"**He received an **_**A**_** on that project," my best friend commented, and I nodded my agreement.**

**  
(I remembered: Blair hadn't stopped gushing about it that whole weekend, and Misty had told me how Bart had bought Chuck two racehorses as a reward; Arabians.**

**I'd replied with, "What? No seventy-foot yacht or private island?"**

**Then I'd tutted and told her Bart was slipping on the gift front.**

**Misty had rolled her eyes at me, and flashed me a smile before saying, "That's reserved for when he drives that old bat of a teacher out of the school.")**

"**Yes, he did receive a top mark," Mrs. Jennings agreed, before adding, "But only because neither History teacher could grade it adequately, and so we decided to settle on an A for sheer ingenuity – something we actually pride in seeing our students accomplish."**

"**It was written entirely in Latin," she explained, looking at us both as if we should have been more surprised by this statement than we were.**

**I merely raised an eyebrow at her: Did she even realize who she was talking about?**

"**Yes, and?" I questioned. "You employ Latin scholars at this establishment, do you not? I'm sure they could have easily graded his paper."**

**The woman huffed for a moment, before saying, "Well, nevertheless, when his work was translated, we discovered the content to be quite… inappropriate for such an age-group."**

"**It was on Ancient Rome, was it not?" Misty asked.**

"**It was on a man named Verres," Mrs. Jennings replied. "He was… he was a womanizer and a cheat and – "**

"**And he was also a governor in Ancient Rome, a man of power, a man whose life story was described in rather bias detail by Cicero. A suitable topic of discussion for a project **_**on**_** Ancient Rome, wouldn't you agree?" my best friend cut in, and I didn't even bother to hide the look of immense pride that was no doubt emanating from my features at this. God, I loved when she brought out the inner bitch.**

**She called it her "inner Eleanor", cheeky wench; but I knew better, it was all her.**

**  
"But to the matter concerning both of you," the woman then addressed us. "It is not, in fact, the **_**incident**_** relating to Miss Sparks's… injury, that has been dealt with, as I'm sure you've been informed."**

"**It is about your children running an… **_**underground homework ring**_**," she said, sounding appalled by the very mention of such a thing.**

**Misty's laughter cut straight through the air at this.**

"**That's all?" she asked, raising an amused, but incredulous eyebrow at this.**

"**Detentions for pushing a girl over I can understand, for back-chatting a teacher, yes, again I completely agree," she continued. "But you actually called an **_**'emergency conference'**_** for this?"**

**Misty laughed again, her head rolling to the side along with her eyes. "Oh, this is priceless."**

"**I don't think you quite feel the seriousness of the situation, Mrs. Bass," the teacher said, eyeing us both then: because, admittedly, my laughter was proving difficult to hold at bay at that moment.**

**You see; my daughter's **_**real**_** problem was being too advanced for her age. She was forever looking for something to **_**do**_**. She finished projects and assignments before anyone else, and due to nothing else having been allocated because the rest of the class were still working on said task, Blair usually looked for something else to hold her attention. She usually just read ahead in her books, but as this then tended to lead onto a bout of twenty-**_**plus**_** questions with her unassuming teacher who then stumbled and stuttered their way through the next ten minutes in her presence; more often than not she simply reverted to talking to whomever was around. And due to someone's wonderful idea of allowing the children to seat themselves (they were eight years old, how beneficial to their education did they think this could **_**really **_**be?) Blair was seated right next to none other than her best friend, Chuck Bass.**

**It was times like these I wondered which one of them was a worse influence; but one look at Misty and myself told me it was mutual.**

**Oh Lord, my daughter was a delinquent; and she was only in Second Grade.**

**Something was going to have to change; for one, she couldn't get caught again.**

**Carelessness like that just would not do, not if Blair wanted to succeed in this world. But it was ok; she still had a lifetime to master the many crafts of our trade, not that I expected it to take her longer than the next few weeks. She was, after all, my daughter; not to mention personal apprentice of Misty Bass. With her best friend by her side, or in the shadows as was one of the tendencies he often shared with his father, I had no doubt they would be a force to be reckoned with. Hell, they already were.**

**I dreaded to think what they'd be like in ten years time.**

**  
"Oh no, I understand explicitly what is going on," Misty retorted.**

"**Somehow, our children, our **_**eight-year-old children**_**, have managed to bypass all of your teaching standards **_**and**_** your supposed professionals and have been producing work for older students, which has then been passed off as their own – in exchange for a fee, no doubt," she went on.**

"**Ballerina tutus and tiaras, and Barbie's – collectable or otherwise depending on the effort involved on her part – for Blair, and we've yet to discover what the payment was for **_**Chuck**_**," Mrs. Jennings said, a clearly disapproving look settled across her features.**

**My lips formed a small smile as I uttered, "Of course, I would've expected nothing less."**

"'_**Underground homework ring'**_**," Misty chuckled to herself by my side.**

**Then she lifted her head and proposed to the older woman, "Have you considered, **_**'Illegal homework scam'**_**? Or how about **_**'Secretive research and development squad'**_**? Only, your one makes them sound like they're cartel peddling some sort of drugs or prostitution circle."**

**I stifled a laugh at my best friend's tone, and the look on both her and the teacher's face.**

"**Like I said; my daughter is special," I reiterated my earlier comment, regaining my composure, as well as Mrs. Jennings attention.**

"**Special," I repeated, this time adding with the slightest of smirks, "More so, our children are… unique."**

"**Oh yes, Mrs. Waldorf, they are definitely unique," Mrs. Jennings agreed and I caught Misty's smirk at this.**

**"But it's usually these _exceptional_ students," she inclined her head to both of us at this, "who need to be watched the most. Often they draw attention without even realizing it."**

"**Well, **_**that's**_** hardly surprising, given their legacies," I commented, eyeing the woman before me.**

**Mrs. Jennings nodded, "Indeed, and like you said, Mrs. Waldorf. They are special. And behind it all; it would appear all they really want to do is make you proud."**

"**They always do," was Misty's line from next to me; and I could practically hear the pride radiating from the smirk across her lips, the sparkle in her eyes.**

**I stood up, politely shook the woman's hand, and then turned and made my way out the door.**

**x**

**My daughter and her best friend were sitting on the bench outside the office; seemingly oblivious to anyone else's presence.**

**In truth, watching the end of their exchange made for quite amusing entertainment:**

"**Arthur Montez," Chuck commented.**

**Blair rolled her shoulders, but stayed silent.**

"**Oh for the love of – " he cut himself off; ever the good Catholic boy like his mother raised him to be – I've mentioned how skewed her moral system is, is it any wonder her son holds to it like a Saint?**

"**He's practically a hobo!" he exclaimed irritably.**

"**I can't make fun of someone just because they're less fortunate than we are," Blair huffed in response to this. "That's just… well, it's unfair, isn't it?"**

"**No," Chuck answered, practically scoffing at the mere notion of such a thing; looking at her like her hair resembled that of a bird's nest, or some other such equally disturbing image.**

"**This is ridiculous," he scowled at her, sighing dramatically, and throwing himself back against the wooden seating with equal theatric fervor.**

"**I don't know why you're so intent on getting me to make fun of people," Blair commented, sending him a half-glare at this.**

"**Because you need to grow a spine," Chuck snapped, making her scowl increase intensely.**

"**I have a spine," she replied indignantly. "I defended you after you got into trouble today during class!"**

"**Yes, let's talk about that shall we?" he propositioned as he turned his body round to face her, the smirk appearing on his lips as the thought seemed to form in his mind.**

"**Georgina Sparks," he said, and watched her carefully.**

**Blair's face resembled an intense snarl as she bit out, "I hope she chokes on that ridiculous lipstick of hers and **_**dies**_**."**

**Chuck's smirk grew immensely at this, "Well, that was **_**much**_** better."**

"**I think there's hope for you yet, Waldorf."**

**  
"Oh, and Mrs. Jennings," I heard Misty say, and watched her as she turned back to the woman just as she reached the door where I stood.**

"**Yes?" the woman raised her head from her paperwork to face the infernal Big Bad Bart counterpart.**

"**Kindly excuse Chuck from any further strenuous exercises you have planned; he has a bad leg, you see, and I'd simply loathe for you to be responsible for aggravating such an injury," she said off-handedly.**

"**Such action would do nothing for your career, I'm sure you'd agree." She gave the woman a charming smile.**

"**Of course," the elder replied after recovering from her momentary shock.**

**And with that, Misty turned on her heel and walked out the door.**

**Her parting words ringing along the hallway; "Come along, Chuck; we're done here."**

**There was a reason she was married to the most feared and influential man in the whole of Manhattan.**

**She was Misty Bass, and she'd be damned if they forgot it.**

**X**

"I forgot how much of a bitch my mother could be when the mood took her," was the comment when I had finished.

My daughter raised an eyebrow, amused by this, as she asked her husband, "Another of her traits you conveniently didn't credit her with passing on."

Chuck smirked at her, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "I thought you liked to take credit for producing the inner bitch in me."

"You know fine well that one belongs solely to Misty," Blair replied.

She rolled her eyes at him, but her hands had already sunk into his hair at the nape of his neck, her arms looped over his shoulders; an easy smile on her face as she murmured against his lips, "I only brought it to the surface."

After a few moments, Eleanor cleared her throat.

The young couple broke apart, her daughter's hands still linked round her husband's neck; their foreheads resting against one another as they turned to face her with identical expectant looks.

"Are you two going to pretend the other is in need of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation every time you interrupt me and make me pause for a break?" the elder asked, raising an eyebrow.

When neither replied, the silence was only broken by the sound of Chuck kissing the side of Blair's mouth; his chuckle rippling through the air as he caught the look on his mother-in-law's face.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said, rolling her eyes at them.

And with that Eleanor stood up and began the route out the door, saying, "I'll give you one hour, and then we'll continue."

"I trust that'll be enough time for you both to satisfy yourselves enough that you'll refrain from interrupting me with your continual matches of tonsil-hockey during our next installment."

Eleanor sent them an enigmatic smile as she stood in the elevator; and they were on each other before the doors closed and the _ding!_ Even sounded her departure.

She blamed a certain Bass woman, and her incessant sway over her for those words and that last action.

The woman was determined to live on wherever she could, even if it meant through Eleanor; at this rate she'd be lucky to get her own headstone when _her_ time came.

Misty Bass was far too influential for her own good; or any one else's for that matter.

Rather like her son.

**  
TBC…**

* * *

My sincerest apologies for this late update.

I returned home on Monday night from my near week-long trip up North, so couldn't update then.  
Then I finished writing this chapter and tried for a good three hours to post it last night, but for some really annoying reason the documents page wouldn't load for me AT ALL. (It's now just after half three in the morning here 27/08/08, just so you don't think I'm all confused an whatnot with the days :) )

So, basically, I'm sorry for not updating sooner, and I'll try have the next one up as soon as I can.

Oh, and I hope the length of this chap makes up for its lateness and the wait – it's over 4000 so… ;)

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think – means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


	6. Spot Transference

First of all, apologies for the wait, writer's block threatened during this one :S

Hope you like...

* * *

Chapter Five: A Leopard Doesn't Change Its Spots, But That Doesn't Stop A Chicken From Spreading Them

"_Blair has chickenpox; and if I could stop laughing at the look on Eleanor's face when the Doctor informed her of the diagnosis I might actually be able to feel sorry for her._

_Though, as it is, the little princess is currently having her every whim pampered to by her doting father insert eye-roll here __**please**__ so I am free to laugh at her mother's antics as much as I want._

_I'll resurrect my Mother Theresa act in time for the final act, I'm sure; it's not my fault I was raised Catholic with relentless fables of Saint-worthy martyrs and good-deeded nuns filling my precocious mind. It's hard to live up to, I'm telling you. And since when did the Upper East Side, Manhattan ever resemble Calcutta or Loyola, or some other such plebian-miracle-worker's vocational spot, anyway? I reckon I'm doing alright considering._

_Eleanor would likely disagree, and my mother would roll over in her grave at my thought of such things; but then I've never taken much heed to what that old bat had to say to me; and my mother… just kidding, though I am hardly likely to take my best friend's word on this one. Eleanor's not of "my kind", as she constantly likes to tease me, as if I've got Bubonic Plague or something – no, __**that**__ would be her daughter._

_Oh, I am cruel._

_I'll drop by tonight with some calamine lotion. Blair will despise it, and Eleanor will look at me like I'm trying to convert her daughter – I take her to Church thrice a year, Confession too; and that's the extent of my __**charity work**__. Woman'll begin to think I run a convent out of my basement if I try anymore: please! And __**ew**__; a basement? Who even has them besides people who live in Brooklyn, probably? Oh Lord, if she picked __**that**__ up from a Brooklyn-ite…_

_Besides, she's got Florence Nightingale with her; Harold'll take good care of her."_

_._

"Urgh!" Blair let out at this. "I remember that. I think it was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life."

Chuck raised an eyebrow from her side, and let out a brief chuckle, commenting, "Oh, because I got off _so_ lightly in comparison."

"I believe I still have the scars to show for my suffering too," he said.

"Well, if you'd just listened when I told you not to scratch the itch, you wouldn't have any blemishes on your skin, now would you?" Blair countered, smiling at him sweetly.

He moved closer, and nuzzled the spot in between her ear and her neck and murmured, " I do believe I have scars from another of our encounter's; did they come from scratching that itch too?"

She rolled her eyes, pushing him away; though a smile tugged at her lips before she straightened up and carried on with, "I bet I did get it from someone from Brooklyn, that's so typical of them, to infest _our_ city."

Her husband didn't bother to correct her on her geography, he was currently being far too entertained to bother with such trivialities; his arm still draped behind her waist, his thumb and forefinger currently drawing patterns across the light fabric of her top, feeling her skin shiver beneath his touch.

"Was Cabbage Patch at our school then?" she turned sharply to direct this at her male counterpart, and let out a muffled scream of sheer irritation when she gained no reply from him; only a wider smirk.

"I swear I'm going to smother him with his stupid _doll_ if I find out he was responsible," she ground out.

Chuck couldn't contain his laughter at this, and ignoring his wife's glare, he pulled her towards him and told her, "Well, when we have children, you can have full access to the entrance list; I'm sure you'll be able to convince a wider audience of the advantages to a more demographically-influenced school."

Blair rolled her eyes, "Stop trying to use big words to impress me."

Then she turned to Eleanor and prompted, "Mother? The story?"

"I want to find out if Humphrey or any of his kind were responsible for my childhood trauma," she said intently.

Eleanor stifled a laugh as well as the roll of the eyes; if only Misty had been there, she'd have reveled in the mother-daughter similarities, the smug little harpy.

x

**"How the Hell did she _get_ chickenpox anyway?" I ranted, pacing up and down. "Don't they do, like, _screening_ at that school?"**

**Misty stifled a laugh at this, and I shot her a glare.**

**"They're not even in High School yet, Eleanor – isn't that when they get tested? You know, before they get their rabies shots and all in case they have to come into close contact with people from like, ew, Brooklyn," she said.**

**Then she turned to me with a face of absolute horror and asked, "You don't think she's **_**been**_** in contact with one of them, do you?"**

**Her eyes widened as she continued, "You don't think they carry, like, the Herpes virus, do you?"**

**I tried to resist, but it was difficult; and before I knew it, she was grinning at me as I burst into a bout of laughter.**

**After a few moments, our laughter subsided and she lifted up a few booklets, "I brought Blair her homework."**

**I smiled gratefully at her, knowing how my daughter got; how I got with her, and took the notepads and such from her hands, placing it on the counter by the stairs.**

**Then I turned back to her and asked, "Did Chuck get it for her?"**

**Her head rolled to the side, with an easy smile and a scoff. "Please, this is my son we're talking about, Eleanor," she chastised me lightly. "He barely knows what his own homework is, nevermind anyone else's."**

"**Besides, since when has **_**Chuck**_** ever participated in such trivial activities?" she asked, with an amused raise of the eyebrow.**

**I rolled my shoulders, agreeing, "True."**

"**Exactly," she said. "No, I picked it up from that old hag when I was collecting him today."**

**I turned to her, a knowing look on my face, and sighing as if her child's problems were my own, asked, "What did he do this time?"**

**Misty rolled her eyes, "More like what **_**didn't**_** he do?"**

"**Homework's beneath him; well, most of the time," she said flippantly. "As are any kinds of tests or assignments in general."**

**"But we knew that already," I commented, with a smile. "Have done for years."**

**She nodded, but rolled her eyes: of course. "He pulled a chair from under that Sparks girl and gave her a concussion – or so she **_**claims**_**, anyway."**

"**Personally I think the head trauma might do her some good, she's always seemed a little _unhinged_, but who am I to counter the words of such an **_**upstanding**_** member of my son's class," she rolled her eyes, and her sarcasm resounded off the marble surround.**

"**And to top it off, he decided that it would be an interesting **_**science**_** project to find as many slugs, bees, worms and other insects, flying or otherwise, that he could and then line them along the teacher's desk," she carried on.**

"**Well," I started, "That's certainly not the worst thing he's done."**

"**It was for show-and-tell, and he performed a series of 'sacrificial rituals' on them," Misty deadpanned.**

"**Oh," I voiced then.**

**She nodded, "Yes, exactly."**

**Then a wide smirk appeared on her face as she commented, "Would have been priceless to see that woman's face, though. When she saw a huge slug turning white and fizzing all over the place, spreading its slime all over her desk."**

"**I will admit, he gets points for originality," I awarded.**

**Misty nodded, agreeing, "Yes, that he does."**

"**If only he could apply said **_**originality**_** to other activities at school, my life might be a little less hectic," she said then.**

**I scoffed, "Yes, because you'd just love that."**

**She shot me a glare, and I laughed.**

"**Oh, you know I'm right," I told her amusedly. "You'd hate every minute of it if Chuck was low-maintenance."**

"**True," she mused, seemingly mulling over the thought. "I do like my risk takers."**

**I rolled my eyes, "And don't we know it."**

**She smirked at me, and threw a throw pillow at my head. It missed: because her aim is just that bad, and my reaction time is just that good. And yes, I do count it as one of my many talents.**

"**Apparently, though, things were getting a little **_**dull**_** around there," she commented, raising her eyebrows at me.**

**I laughed, "Because Blair wasn't there?"**

**She continued to fix me with the same look as before while she told me, "He thrives on her attention; whether she's present or otherwise, evidently."**

"**I thought I heard her sickly sweet voice offering congratulations earlier," I commented, beaming at my best friend. "That must have been after the sirens died down."**

"**Mmm," she voiced, clearly not amused by my antics.**

"**But doing all that because he didn't have Blair's attention?"**

"**Oh, that's just priceless," I remarked, still laughing.**

"**Actually, it's not. At the moment she's worth a complete renovation of the classroom and improvement of all its equipment and supplies," she countered.**

"**Though it could go up to a wing of the library if she doesn't return and my son's mind fails to be stimulated by other means," Misty finished, rolling her eyes.**

"**Well, count yourself lucky it wasn't the **_**whole**_** library," I said, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes at me once more, and turning away.**

"**Mmm," she murmured, surveying the outlay of my living room, before turning to face me once again.**

"**So how is the little princess?" Misty asked as she dropped easily into one of my sofas with a grace I'd yet to acquire; not that I'd ever admit to be lacking in such a thing, obviously. Though she probably already knew how I felt; mind reading wench.**

**I sighed dramatically, taking a seat in the couch opposite her as I said, "Lapping up all the TLC and attention her father's giving her."**

"**Naturally," my best friend shared my sentiment as she rolled her eyes.**

"**So, how are **_**you**_**?" she turned her questioning round, her eyes expectant, features waiting.**

"**Me? Oh, I'm fine," I replied airily, waving a dismissive hand at the thought of anything countering that thought.**

"**Really?" she raised an eyebrow at me, lightly fingering the outer edge of the arm of the chair as she did so: her fingertip circling over the brass beading; cool and hard to the touch, but stunning on the eye.**

**I rolled my eyes at her and let out a dramatic sigh, "Yes, Misty. I'm fine."**

"**Honestly, I am," I reiterated when I was met with her skeptical gaze. "She's always been more of a Daddy's Girl, so why should the fact that she's clinging to her now affect me any more than normal?"**

"**A child needs a mother too," I heard her say quietly, but when I looked up her gaze was directed out to the night sky; a panorama of glistening stars.**

**X**

"**You know, I heard a terrible rumor at the children's school the other day," I mentioned it rather warily, watching my best friend for her reaction with every few words.**

"**Oh, really? And what was that?" Misty asked, sparing a glance up at me from the portfolios before her.**

"**Some of the children were discussing that bruises on Chuck's arm and face," I continued.**

"**Were they now?" she sounded completely disinterested, but the fact that she wasn't looking at me told me something more.**

"**There was talk that it might have been his father's doing," I said, pausing.**

**Misty took a deep intake of breath, releasing it just as she placed her pen firmly down on the desk and turned her face up to meet mine.**

**"My husband would never hit my son," she stated calmly, and I believed her.**

**I knew that already, she didn't need to tell me. Bart was a bastard, true; but he loved his wife and son more than anything. And he would never intentionally cause them harm. **_**That**_** I knew.**

"**I never said he did," I told her.**

"**I was just telling you what I heard," I said then, and she nodded.**

"**So… " I broached the subject once more, still with care; a cushion flying at my head I could handle, a heavy metal piece of camera or lighting equipment was something else entirely.**

"**What happened to him?" I asked.**

"**Gave that Sparks girls a concussion?" she said, looking at me like this should trigger something in my mind.**

"**Apparently the little wench didn't appreciate it, and thought she'd return the favor," Misty told me, venom slipping from her tongue with every word.**

"**She pushed him off his own chair?" I ventured, raising an eyebrow; **_**well, that was lame.**_

**My best friend rolled her eyes at me, and corrected me, saying, "No. She tripped him with her hockey stick outside of class, and he fell into the wall."**

"**Then of course, because our children never do things in halves, she grabbed his arms to stable him," she carried on.**

**Adding, " – because practically yanking the limbs out of their sockets is so effective like that – " with a roll of the eyes.**

"**And he spat in her face," Misty ended.**

"**Yes, I know, no need to tell me, I know how vulgar it is," she said at the look on my face.**

"**Though, if it makes you feel any better, it did smudge her eye-make up and she succeeded in looking like a panda," Misty offered, and I rolled my eyes, though a laugh escaped from my lips.**

"**So, what happened after that? He got a detention, I presume," I said.**

"**No, there weren't any teachers around," Misty answered dismissively.**

"**Though, apparently, she thought a suitable revenge came in the form of spreading that the cause of his injuries was a result of his father's wrath or because he didn't love him, or some other such nonsense," she commented.**

"**Though I see gossip still divides like it used to," she remarked, and met my eyes briefly as she expanded, "I received rather distressed looks from no less than five sets of parents, while a few even refused to talk to me, nevermind approach me."**

"**I'm sorry," I said, because I genuinely was.**

**She rolled her shoulders, and placated my fears with a reassuring smile. "Don't be. I'm not. Let them think what they will. And when the New York Times does its review on 'A Night Out With…' and all it discusses is my wonderful social and family life displayed over one single evening; and then the Holiday cards are sent out; well, I'm sure people will think of something else to occupy their minds, other than the thought of my husband beating our nine-year-old son senseless."**

**She released a breath at that, swept some loose strands of hair from her face and said, "Besides, I plan on ruining the little harpy all on my own."**

"**Mind if I borrow your daughter's hockey stick to do it?" she asked with a flash of a smile. "Or better yet, your daughter?"**

**"That was one time, Misty," I rolled my eyes at her as I replied. "I don't intend to have to deal with a repeat performance."**

**"But why not?" she asked, giving me those bee-stung pouting lips. "It was beyond entertaining watching your daughter beat down that little gothic shadow on the hockey pitch the other day."**

**"Or don't you remember?" she teased me.**

**I rolled my head to the side, along with my eyes, "What I **_**remember**_** is having to deal with a pair of irate parents and explain to them why my daughter had deliberately tripped up their daughter – a member of her own team might I add – and then shoved her face into the mud instead of giving her a hand up."**

"**She did give her a hand up!" Misty defended.**

"**Oh yes, **_**after**_** she'd tried to give the girl a mud facemask," I replied sarcastically. "Very helpful."**

"**Well, the girl does look like she could do with opening up some of those pores – maybe then she'd get a little sun around her features," my best friend commented, raising a hand to her face and swirling a finger in front of it, as she added, "Ye know, look less vampire-y."**

**I rolled my eyes; I swear, she chose **_**the**_** most annoying times to defend my daughter's behavior.**

"**And, if **_**I**_** remember, I helped you with the Stepford-parents," she added, with a knowing look. "I swear it's unnatural how much effort their daughter goes to, to achieve the Transylvanian look."**

**She was making it far too difficult to remain serious; I even had to bite my lip to keep the smile at bay for goodness sake!**

"**Yes, and as grateful as I am, I'd have rather not had to deal with that couple and then explain to my husband why our daughter was carded **_**twice**_** against her own teammate – and she'd barely been back a day, for goodness sake!" I exclaimed.**

"**Well, that's what happens when someone tries to interfere when your claiming another's attention," Misty responded matter-of-factly.**

**I rolled my eyes; because **_**of course**_** my daughter's little 'outburst' had less to do with her own feelings of absolute loathing towards the Sparks girl, and more to do with what she'd done to her best friend. On the note of best friends: Serena tried to refuse to talk to Blair till she apologized to **_**Georgie**_**; but naturally my daughter broke her resolve before she even had to utter a word of a faux admission of regret. She never was one to tolerate liars lightly.**

"**God, you are impossible," I told her, though the smile broke through, **_**eventually**_**.**

**She flashed me a wide grin, "I aim to please."**

**Silence lapsed over us, before Misty spoke again, saying, "Now, about that hockey stick…"**

x

"Oh, I remember that day," Chuck's voice broke through then, a wide grin splayed across his lips. "I thoroughly enjoyed the show, I have to say."

"You put on a stunning performance, darling, as always," he directed at Blair, his lips curving into a smirk.

"Well, I'm glad _someone_ found it entertaining," she said, a small smile peeking through even though her tone missed its light note.

"Oh, believe me, sweetheart," her mother told her then. "He wasn't the only one."

"Well," Blair relented after a moment, her eyes traveling between them, "I do aim to please."

"That you do, my dear, that you do," Eleanor said, her own face lit up with pride as her son-in-law tugged his wife closer into him, his grin transferring to her with a single kiss; an easy smile spreading across her face.

x

_"I checked on Chuck last night, and it turns out he's come down with chickenpox himself._

_I swear it's Eleanor's doing._

_And there goes the doorbell. Convenient. I bet she's sent her little __**recovered**__ minion to sweeten me up before her arrival._

_I think I might have to retract that thankfulness after all._

_Though she knows I can't resist those eyes._

_Scheming witch."_

Eleanor let out a laugh as she read this, "Ah, such love."

**  
TBC…**

* * *

Apologies for the wait; I started this chapter fine, and had the last bit written too; but I couldn't, for the life of me, get the content for the middle written. I hit a block, and nothing would come, so sorry about that – and hopefully the next chapter should be up soon.  
Though if anyone wants to throw ideas out there - the basis for each chapter stems from the parts in 'Love Is...' & 'Pretending Was...' - feel free :)

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you thought – means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


	7. Declarations of Love, Or Interpretations

A/N: This has quite a few mentions of SEX, nothing explicit or anything like that, but implications are probably there, and the word itself is mentioned quite considerable. So, if you shouldn't be reading this, or it makes you uncomfortable, please skip over it it's in the third Misty/Eleanor interaction, naturally ;)  
Also, any comments made are Eleanor's/Misty's or the character's opinions, NOT mine.

Eeee, reviews are dwindling :S

Oh well, I like writing this, it's fun, and it's a follow-on from my two one-shots, and will hopefully lead to a sequel – of sorts. So I'll continue to post, and if anyone wants to review, feel free :)

In honour of the new episode airing later tonight, which I won't get to see till like AGES after : I give you a new chapter – enjoy…

* * *

Chapter Six: Declarations of Love – If You Can Really Call Them That: But Then Again, Maybe You're Really A Brooklyn-ite And Therefore Can't Be Blamed For Such … Eccentricities, I Personally Blame The Water

"_We just got back from our trip to the UK this afternoon, and at the moment, I'm lounging on the couch. I'm attempting to wave off the feelings of jet lag that are threatening to overcome me, while my husband is popping into the office for a short period to check on some things. I'll give him that; he did just spend a month abroad with us._

_Besides, I know that when he comes home later, I'll already be tucked up in bed asleep, and he'll walk into the room, see me this way, and join me in a matter of moments; slipping in beside me and instantly wrapping his arms around me. It's enough for me to glaze over any feelings of resentment I might feel at being virtually abandoned by my husband the moment we step into our home after a month overseas._

_He'll have looked in on Chuck, too, and will have dropped a kiss to our son's head, bidding him goodnight before going to bed himself._

_It's in the little things that I love my husband. And it's because of these things and because I know that this is his own way of showing me that he loves me, and our son, that I will overlook certain other things. Because my husband loves me, and at the end of the day, my son and I are the ones he will always return home to at night. The ones who will always have that hold over his heart._

_  
Chuck's asleep beside me, and I can't resist stroking his hair as his head rests in my lap. I think it's about time for a haircut, however. After all, he may be able to pull off the rugged look now, but a week longer and he'll look like he belongs in one of those boxes in Brooklyn; or whatever it is they live in in that place._

_Blair's hair is longer too now, and a shade lighter from all the sun. It suits her: the lengthened curls and the sun-kissed locks; makes her look more… enchanting. If that's even possible._

_I'm almost certain she has my son already infatuated with her; I'm just waiting for him to admit his undying love for her. If __**that's**__ even possible._

_I really ought to give Eleanor a call; though it might be worth just turning up at her apartment tomorrow. She'll probably be sorely tempted to hang up on me, and that would be a rather… unpleasant experience._

_Besides, if I just appear in her home, and she kicks me out – which she **would not** do – she can't keep me out. I know her security code **and** I'm so far beyond first-name basis with the 'new guy' on the front desk, he should be in the contacts list in my cell-phone; not that I'd ever actually do that, but… my point has been made. No need to elaborate further. I think I'll call first. Nothing like the sound of my best friend's irritated voice to lull me into a deep sleep."_

_..._

"Were you two always like this?" Blair asked, raising an eyebrow at her mother. "Because I don't remember much of models being castrated or design pieces being ruined in my childhood."

"Believe me, that very nearly happened during the _Roman-period_," Eleanor replied loftily. "But that is a tale for another time."

"And yes, to answer your question, we were always like that," she replied.

"Misty was a know-it-all little harpy and I was an insufferable wench," she told them matter-of-factly, ignoring their odd looks.

"What can I say?" Eleanor rolled her shoulders, and flashed them a smile. "We worked."

"Yes, I'm sure you did. You lasted, after all," her daughter awarded her. "And I don't exactly recall any damaging moments on either of us during your friendship."

She cast a glance at Chuck, as he gave her a half-hearted, 'You cannot be serious about that' look, and she smiled at him; absently stroking the spot on his wrist, still indented from that fall from grace – er, _tree_ – all those years ago.

"Well, almost," she relented, and caught the roll of his eyes by her side.

"Though I have to say, that was one of the best holidays I've ever had," Blair beamed, sharing a look with her husband then, who gave her a smile this time in return and tugged at her waist, pulling her closer.

"Mmm," Eleanor murmured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and instead opted for turning her head to the side to remove her gaze from the couple before her. "Don't I know it."

...

"**Hello?" I answered automatically: sounding inanely monotonous, even for me.**

"**Why hello there, wonderful best friend of mine. Busy tomorrow?" Misty's smooth, yet vivacious voice slid across the connection.**

"**I'm not sure whether I should be insulted by what could be construed as your assumption that I have no life, or by your arrogant assumption that I'll just drop any plans I have now that you've decided to call for the first time in a month," I replied.**

"**I've been busy," she said by way of explanation, and I could hear the amused smile in her words.**

"**Why? Did you miss me?" she asked then, with that annoying teasing tone in her voice.**

**I rolled my eyes and snorted in the most ladylike way possible, as I retorted, "I was just starting to think I'd finally gotten rid of you."**

"**You know I'm more persistent than that," she chastised me playfully. "And you didn't answer my question on whether you're busy or not."**

"**Yes, I am," I told her simply; ignoring the fact I could practically hear the '**_**so there!**_**' tone in my voice. God, she was turning me into a child!**

"**Cancel, I'll be round before lunch. We're going out," she replied to that.**

**And before I could respond, she'd hung up.**

**Smug harpy, I thought to myself then; replacing the phone on its cradle and turning back to my work, though I couldn't stop the smile from playing across my lips. **

**She could read me far too well.**

**X**

"**Oh, come on. You can't stay mad at me forever," were my best friend's first words to me as soon as she stepped into my line of vision; holding out her arms and giving me that bee-stung pout and those big, expectant eyes.**

"**You got fat," I said simply, giving her a look.**

"**I did not," she countered, hands dropping to her sides.**

"**You're hair looks hideous," I continued.**

"**It does not," she rolled her eyes at me.**

**"Your face is getting ugly," I added, still giving her the same look as when she first entered.**

"**It is not," she said, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side as if to say: 'Are we **_**really**_** going to carry on this game? It's getting old fast'.**

**Then her face broke into a smile as she breathed out, "I missed you too."**

"**Well, apparently my daughter didn't -**** at all," I commented then, not missing a beat, and I gave her a pointed look.**

"**Oh, hush you," Misty admonished, rolling her eyes once more at my theatrics. "She did too."**

"**When?" I questioned. "Would that be while she was sunning herself in the English sun watching the tennis? Or when she was being taught golf in its home country by your son?"**

"**Or maybe that'd be when she and **_**my best friend**_** went shopping in Bond Street, just the two of them?" I continued.**

"**Or possibly when she was going to **_**jazz festivals**_** and dancing the night away?" I raised an eyebrow.**

**Misty rolled her eyes.**

"**She did miss you, Eleanor, you're just being childish," she told me, in a matter-of-fact tone that made me want to hit her.**

**Because she was right, of course, and I knew it. That didn't mean I'd admit to that fact though, obviously.**

"**The girl was having fun, she's ten-years-old, what do you expect? We all get sidetracked when we're on holiday, you know that," she tried to placate me gently.**

"**She called me four times!" I exclaimed. "Four times in four weeks!"**

"**That equates to an absolutely miniscule amount of time during your entire trip which she spent thinking about me," I told her.**

"**Well, think yourself lucky. Chuck didn't call me **_**or**_** his father at all during his trip to see his Aunt last year," she replied, giving me a smile in order to try and pacify me.**

"**Yes, but your son is an arrogant brat. He's expected to shun his parents at every turn and not care for anyone else's feelings, just like his father. Blair, however, is not," I replied hotly.**

**Misty sent me a hard glare, snatching up her clutch from the counter, and I knew she wanted to say something worse in return; she had an acid tongue, and this was the first time I'd never seen her use it.**

"**Let me know when you've decided to apologize, and then **_**maybe**_** I'll tell you how my holiday with **_**your daughter**_** went, shall I?" she settled for saying instead.**

**And with that she turned and walked out.**

**I was too busy stewing in her departure to think of the immediate consequences.**

**Of course, I knew this couldn't end well. Her in that mood was never good.**

**X**

**I stepped through the French doors and onto the balcony. Misty's back was to me as she stood by the stone railing, staring out at the city below. **

"**Hope you're not planning on jumping," I quipped on sight. "It'd be tragic."**

"**Tragic for whom?" she questioned, turning to face me.**

"**I never pictured you for the suicidal type. I always thought it showed weakness and I assumed you felt the same," I told her then.**

"**I'm not suicidal, Eleanor, I'm simply admiring the scenery," she commented and then walked by me through the threshold I'd just crossed moments before.**

**…**

**"I had another row with Harold," I eventually said, having followed her into the living room minutes before and done nothing but sat silently on the sofa across from her.**

"**Don't care," was my instant reply.**

**My eyes snapped wide; my expression no doubt surprised; and my eyes hopefully telling her she was being a hard-faced bitch.**

**Misty inhaled deeply and silently, breathing calm onto her raging sensibilities.**

**Then she fashioned a rudimentary look of sympathy on her face and said, "I didn't mean that."**

"**I do care. I care very much," she told me, and offered me a small smile to go with the other expression.**

**I paused, calmed myself, and met her eyes again. She held my gaze.**

**I took a seat opposite her, and she slid me a cup of coffee across the table.**

**A moment of intimacy passed between us – we understood each other. Normally I might've said this had developed from our years of friendship, but I knew better. This had essentially occurred because we'd surpassed anything we'd ever held between us before. I'd done something wrong and she was capable of being a complete bitch about it.**

"**You just pissed me off," she added, with a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips.**

"**I'm getting that idea," I commented ruefully, and brought my coffee to my lips, sipping on it.**

"**Tell me what happened," she said softly, trying to understand where I was coming from.**

**And so I did. I told her about how my husband had come home not long after she had left for goodness knows what reason; a fact I'd shared with him, and we'd had an argument.**

**I'd shouted at him for his errant behavior of late: because naturally without his little Blair Bear around, he'd felt free to do as he pleased. And he's called me on my ever-increasing workload, claiming I was the one to be acting out of sorts. He said it was my fault that our time together had been getting increasingly more and more sparse and that if we wanted this to work, it had to be a collective effort. Of course, I'd scoffed at that, because it was obvious that **_**I**_** was the one doing all the work, and naturally we'd ended on a disagreeing note.**

**When I finished, Misty had simply rolled her eyes at me and said, "Go home, apologize to Harold and make arrangements to have lunch together tomorrow."**

"**And then have fiery, passionate sex on any available surface you can find," she added, flashing me a grin.**

"**Excuse me?" I asked incredulously, raising my eyebrows at her; looking at her like she'd just asked me to go to Confession; yeah flamin' right that would ever happen.**

"**What?" she replied, looking at me with that innocent, yet completely and utterly entertained expression on her face. "You need the practice for when you apologize to me for being an utter boot earlier, and – "**

**She rolled her shoulders, fitting me with that smirk of hers that she only pulled out for moments like these, as she continued with, " – And that's what Bart and I do, and look how well we're doing."**

"**Oh my word, you are impossible," I told her then, throwing my head to the side.**

"**I know," Misty grinned at me.**

"**But, seriously, there's nothing quite like hot make-up sex to put you back on track like nothing'd ever happened," she told me.**

**She threw me a sly look then as she added, "Of course, that's until you remember just how good it was, **_**then**_** you'll wonder why you don't do it more often."**

"**I swear you're deranged," I told her then. "I bet it's all that ridiculously expensive water you have imported. I bet it's really from Brooklyn and it's affecting your brain; mixing your ability to spout advice with your inordinate fantasy sex-life."**

"**Hey!" Misty protested. "I'll have you know that there is nothing fantasy about my sex-life."**

**Then she stopped herself, "Well, except for that one time…"**

**She must have caught the look on my face, because she quickly added, "But it was our anniversary, and it was a surprise and – oh, why am I defending myself?"**

"**I dressed up in the white suspenders, bridal garter, gloves; you know, the works, but topless, of course," she said to me, almost nonchalantly, rolling her shoulders, as she continued just matter-of-factly, "Best sex we'd had all month."**

**She smiled triumphantly at me, while I openly gawked at her. I knew I was doing it, and it was unladylike and all else, but she was deplorable; she really was.**

**Though, it was a good look on her, I had to admit. She had a certain… **_**glow**_** about her – **

" – Okay, that's enough," Chuck's voice broke through the air. "We _really_ don't need to carry on about my parents sex-life thank you very much, or lack there-of."

"You'd prefer to think it never existed?" Eleanor asked with an amused look.

"Exactly. They had sex, one time, during which I was conceived," he told her, in such a matter-of-fact tone she had to fight not to laugh.

"And then they never went near each other again," he continued. "In fact, let's say they slept in separate beds for the remainder of their marriage, and they never so much as looked at each other in an intimate way after that single night."

She resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow and ask him amusedly, 'Who said anything about it being at night?' but she refrained; she might give the boy a brain hemorrhage.

"And you really think that'll fit with what your mother has written, hmm?" she probed him instead, that entertaining look still present across her face.

"It doesn't have to fit, it just has to block out any thought of my parents having sex," Chuck told her simply.

"Right, well. I highly doubt it will work, but fine, who am I to argue with a Bass?" Eleanor replied airily.

Chuck merely smirked at her in response, "Who indeed?"

She rolled her eyes at his response; so much like his damn mother.

X

**Misty looked at me helplessly.**

**Then she turned to my daughter and said sternly, "Blair."**

**She looked up at my best friend with wide eyes, her face a picture of hopefulness.**

"**The first time you don't take care of him, boom, he's out," the elder said. **

**Then, eyeing my daughter, she added, "Understood?"**

**Blair's face lit up and she squealed and threw herself, and **_**it**_**, into Misty's arms: while I simply gaped at them.**

**Misty hugged back, then caught my expression. She gave me a slight sheepish look, and a roll of the shoulders, and then let go: while I threw my head to the side, and rolled my eyes at her. And my daughter practically **_**skipped**_** into the other room, that **_**thing**_** held tightly within her grasp; if it dirtied her dress **_**at all**_** I was sending her the bill.**

"**She gave me the eyes," Misty said, as if this was explanation enough; it sort of was. "You know how I can't resist it when she does the eyes."**

**Eleanor laughed incredulously, "She's not even your daughter!"**

"**Exactly! And she has me wrapped around her finger," she said.**

**Then shaking her head she mused, "Bart's just going to be thrilled with this development."**

**I scoffed at her, "Oh, as if you even thought for one moment I was going to allow that **_**thing**_** to stay in my house."**

**She folded her arms over her chest and replied haughtily, "I'll have you know that **_**he**_** is a Yorkshire terrier. Authentically bred from the place itself. And his **_**name **_**is **_**Mr. Famous.**_**"**

"**Like Audrey's?" I asked, amid much laughter then.**

**She nodded, and raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong with that?"**

"**No," I managed to get out, "None at all."**

"**But didn't that get run over and killed?" I asked, my brow furrowing slightly, while I struggled to keep my lips from curving upwards at the corners.**

**She moved to throw her clutch bag at me. "Oh, be quiet you."**

"**A fat lot of help you were, I might add," she then said.**

"**I was in another country!" I defended.**

**And then I laughed at her once more as I remarked, "But even if I wasn't, I probably wouldn't have bothered lending a hand. I'd no doubt be too busy basking in the pride of my creation as she won you over with nothing more than a quick bat of the eyelids."**

**Misty merely rolled her eyes, voicing simply, "Mmm."**

"**And then I'd have dropped the **_**thing**_** in the Atlantic on the flight back," I added, giving her a smirk.**

**She really did throw her clutch at me for that one.**

X

"Oh, I remember Mr. Famous," Blair crooned. "He was such a cutie."

"Whatever happened to him again?" Chuck pondered, face falling into a slight frown.

His wife's face darkened, while his mother-in-law's split into a wide smile, and Eleanor fell into an uncontrollable bout of laughter, somehow managing to struggle out, "Run over by a car a week later."

**  
TBC…**

* * *

A/N: "Oh, come on. You can't stay mad at me forever." "You got fat." "I did not." "You're hair looks hideous." "It does not." "Your face is getting ugly." "It is not… I missed you too." – Grey's Anatomy  
"I had another row with Harold." "Don't care…" – Part of the scene adapted from 'Marshmallows For Breakfast'  
"You're so hard on yourself…" – Scene Adapted from 'My Best Friend's Girl'

Much apology for the delay, yet again, but I'm finding it difficult to think up material for this – it should get easier in a few chapters as I've sort of already got those mainly written out, but for now, I'm afraid, you'll have to contend with a couple of days between updates.

Also, I've sort of been distracted by wee things I've been planning and writing for the sequel-of sorts ;)

Oh, and for any '_Pietas'_ readers out there – lol, this really WAS just an easy way to update people, but if I gain a few more readers/reviewers out of it I'm not complaining ;) – the last chapter should be up tomorrow morning, so… in a few hours :)

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think – means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


	8. Of Acting,Diamonds,Fashion &Trumpets?

Apologies for the late update, I had to completely rewrite this chapter because I really just did not like the first attempt.

Oh, and I just want to take the opportunity to mention to any new readers :D - that although you don't necessarily have to read '_Love Is…_' or '_Pretending Was…_' to understand this, it would probably help quite immensely, else some of the references won't make sense ;)

A/N: As always, Italics is Misty's POV from her diary; and Bold is Eleanor's POV as memories.  
But this is the first chapter where there's an extra POV: 3rd Person of Chuck/Blair's memories is in Bold Italics.

Hope you like…

* * *

Chapter Seven: I Don't Think Acting's Quite Your Thing, Darling, Why Don't You Try Wielding A Diamond-Encrusted Instrument, While Dressed In The Latest Fashion, And See If That Suits?

"_There's a school play tonight at my son's school. It should be a grand affair, naturally. We like to do things on a large scale in the UES: never ones to shirk on opulence, even if it is a performance by two mere handfuls of eleven-year-olds._

_Serena van der Woodson is tonight's shining star. I admit, I'm drawn to her, like many, through that carefree aura she seems to possess. It's like she flights the rules, not because they're beneath her, but because in her world there's no need for such things. And I can relate, truly I can. Except that once day, this little girl will grow up and someone will eventually realize that while she constantly and consistently flaunts these rules, the truth is she needs them. Because without rules, she has nothing to break free from. Without rules, __**she**__ is nothing. Which is a shame, really, because she's such a lovely child in her own right._

_Blair, on the other hand, __**is**__ the complete opposite. They're like yin and yang. She's elegant in a classic way of old, and yet manages to pull it off with a contemporary view. She's prim and proper, which is engaging in its own way; and yet I have to say, I like nothing more than to see her get her dirty on; it is so entertaining. Especially when she teams up with my son._

_It's not so kind on the bank-balance, or on my husband or best friend's temperament, but it does so entertain me. Of course, that is until I have to converse with Chuck's teachers, who let me tell you, may be a poor imitation of the Nuns who ruled my own school with an iron fist, dishing out a 'healthy' dose of Catholicism at every turn; but they sure knew how to piss me off._

_Like the other day, for instance. __**Somehow**__, I discovered that my son had auditioned for the leading male role in tonight's play. Naturally, I took this information with a pinch of salt. My son does not __**audition**__ for anything. He turns up, quips something terribly witty and more-often-than-not highly inappropriate, manages to win round the __**audition-er**__ and is named as partaking in said role. It's not a terribly difficult tirade, as he usually merely states his name and as a result of the many, __**many**__ various wings and foundations in the school that encase the family name; he usually wins out. _

_Except, when I turned up at his school later that day, my curiosity got the better of me, and I took a little trip along to the auditorium. And so, imagine my surprise when I saw my son standing in the middle of the stage, Serena van der Woodson opposite him._

_I took a seat at the back, and watched. I saw Serena flounce off to the side of the stage, watched her conversing with Blair, before that Sparks girl decided to make her presence known. And I watched my son slink off to partake in small talk with Nathaniel Archibald and some other boys from his class, while his female counterpart was currently being surrounded by what seemed like half their class._

_Of course, because nothing in my life can ever run smoothly, and because, I swear, my son likes to drive me spare; that was the moment everything kicked off._

_I groaned, and tried not to think of how many pairs of Manolo's and Jimmy Choo's this was going to cost me; because I could already feel my bank balance suffering on this one, and my checkbook becoming increasing lighter too. He'd better appear with something sparkly to appease me, preferably in a Tiffany's bag; though not specifically._

_I blame my best friend, and the fact that her daughter is irresistible beyond all right. After all, how is any man supposed to resist that; let alone an eleven-year-old boy? And we all know Chuck has never been one to let what __**he**__ feels, go by unnoticed."_

-

"I remember that," Blair said, recollection hitting her suddenly.

"You should," Chuck muttered from her side. "It cost my mother that season's Prada collection twice over, and I don't think she ever let me live it down."

"Something you wish to share?" Eleanor queried.

"I never did get to hear what happened," she commented, almost regretfully. "I don't think Misty could get past the fact that she might actually have to use her usual post-coital moment with your father when he returned from his business trip to London, to actually _broach_ the subject of why the funding for a refurbished _Drama Auditorium_ was being constructed in the Bass name."

"I'm sure that wasn't quite the welcome-home gift she'd been planning for him," the elder quipped then, and couldn't help smirking at this.

"Yes, and once again, thank you for that lovely image, Eleanor," her son-in-law remarked, and glowered at her.

She simply smiled sweetly at him, before waving her hand and prompting, "Well, the story? Are you going to expand on it, or am I going to have to tell you a little tale of my own?"

She raised her eyebrows and an amused look played across her face as she

"I thought we'd already discussed the matter of my parents sex-life," Chuck gritted out.

Eleanor looked mildly perturbed as she rolled her shoulders. "What can I say? It amuses me to see you squirm like that."

-

_**Chuck Bass was bored. In fact that was the understatement of the century; he was just about ready to off himself – well, if the result wasn't so messy, and probably required quite the bit of effort considering he was standing on an empty stage with nothing near him bar his classmates and a Grand Piano in the corner.**_

_**Actually, that piano could come in handy. If he slammed the lid down on his head, would the impact actually reach his brain? Or would the ivory keys and strings get in the way? **__**Or**__** would they aid him further in his endeavour? He shrugged, either way, it was bound to resolve this tedium.**_

_**A sharp jab to his side brought him out of his thoughts. With his scowl already set in place (yours would be to if you had to **__**act**__** across from that dud) he directed it at the boy standing next to him; who merely gave him a pointed look.**_

"_**You're not taking this seriously," the sandy-haired boy said, in a sigh; as though it was some great tragedy akin to the sinking of the Titanic, only less well reported.  
**_

_**Chuck raised both his eyebrows this time, posing the incredulous question: "And you are?"**_

"_**Well…" Nate drifted off.**_

"_**It's a waste of time," he assured him.**_

"_**Yeah, but… you should still make an effort," his best friend replied. "If not for your sake, for Serena's."**_

_**Chuck rolled his eyes at this: he liked Serena, sure. She played an integral part in the little Breakfast-Club-esque existence he shared with Blair and Nate. But that didn't mean he wanted to play the part of her charming Knight for all to see. How his best friend hadn't gotten the role as the 'Blonde Princess's' Prince Charming was beyond him; oh, yeah, that was right, he wasn't Chuck freakin' Bass. Besides, Blair would have been better at it. She didn't have to **__**act**__** innocent; it was practically in her very being, well, except when she was around him, of course; then her true bad girl side displayed itself. Maybe he should've gone with his initial idea to sabotage the play to allow Blair the leading role, he thought to himself then: for nothing if not the sheer entertainment value when her true colors showed themselves, while he stood there as first witness to it all. He'd always known there was something underneath it all that intrigued him more than anything. Get her on stage and maybe he'd unravel it once and for all. And she'd be his for the taking. Dramatically speaking, of course.**_

_**He broke from his reverie once again to hear his best friend still talking.**_

"_**Just because you don't care, doesn't make it fair that Serena should look bad," Nate added, giving him another pointed look.**_

_**Chuck, however, merely brushed this off with a scoff as he rolled his eyes once more. "Nathaniel, last week I walked in on Georgina Sparks trying to teach our precious golden girl how to dance for this **__**performance**__**."**_

"_**It was the blind leading the blind, and it ended up looking more like a pole dance than an iconic scene in the rain," Chuck told him.**_

"_**I said to myself then that it was the biggest waste of time I had ever witnessed. This **__**rehearsal**__** has surpassed it," he declared. "By quite a margin as well."**_

_**Nate relinquished a low laugh, while a boy by the name of Branforth on his other side smirked at him.**_

_**After a moment, however, Nate stalked off and returned to the stage where he began testing out a different life with Serena. He shook his head, mentally resigning himself to the fact that the boy was a lost cause.**_

_**Apparently Georgina Sparks had been observing, and took his moment of solitude to pounce.**_

"_**So," she purred in his ear. "You think my teaching is equivalent to nothing more than a two-bit whore, do you?"**_

_**He didn't bother to turn round, merely smirked, and retorted easily, "Your words, Georgie."**_

_**She growled and shoved him, twisting his body round and a foot away from her, before she advanced on him.**_

"_**You are becoming the thorn in my side, Bass," she gritted out.**_

_**He laughed, his face contorting as he mocked, "Aw, have I pierced your heart with my charming good looks and scintillating wit?"**_

"_**Not likely," she spat, and his smirk returned.**_

"_**You know, you really shouldn't look like that, Georgie," he taunted, raising a hand to leisurely indicate her facial features. "You'll get wrinkles before we're even in High School; and just think how that'd clash with your effort to reincarnate Lord Voldemort."**_

_**He snickered at his own joke while her heavily darkened eyes merely glowered at him.**_

"_**Problem here?" the sweet voice of Blair Waldorf joined them.**_

"_**Oh, I was just giving our Georgie here some advice on clashing expressional cultures," was Chuck's smug reply.**_

"_**Why?" the petite brunette wrinkled her nose. "She makes it too easy with the eyes and that hair, and those **__**shoes**__**."**_

_**Georgina growled at her then. "As opposed to you, little miss Snow White. Pity you couldn't be more like Serena, then maybe your mom would be able to design something that you could actually wear."**_

"_**Says she who takes to wearing black as if her life's a permanent funeral," Blair quipped in return, raising a perfectly curved eyebrow in defiance.**_

"_**Maybe it is," the other remarked, and Blair rolled her eyes.**_

"_**Alright, ladies, as entertaining as this is, I have a performance to prepare for," Chuck told them, smirking as he began to walk away, Blair by his side.**_

"_**I heard you talking about me and Serena, Bass. You really think I'm going to leave that lie? Hearing you refer to me as if I'm worth no more than one of your Daddy's prostitutes?" Georgina bit out, and almost grinned when she saw his step falter.**_

_**Chuck whirled around, face hard and jaw set, as he grit out, "You take that back."**_

"_**No," she replied, amused. "I don't think I will."**_

"_**Retract that statement, Georgina," it was Blair's turn to say, as her piercing gaze set on the other.**_

"_**No."**_

"_**In fact, I think I'll go further and say that along with Chuck's dear Daddy partaking in activities within the Red Light District; **__**you**__**, Snow White, could do with losing a few pounds, maybe then Mommy'll love you like she does the **__**blonde princess**__**."**_

_**Chuck growled, low in his throat and advanced towards her; but Blair got there first. And before anyone could say anything, she'd cracked Georgina, right across the face.**_

"_**I hate you," Blair gritted out.**_

_**A deathly silence had overcome the hall, and you could practically hear Blair's very deliberate breathing in the heat of everything else.**_

_**Nothing **__**really**__** happened, however, until the Drama Teacher and Performance Coordinator, Mrs Willard, stepped onto the stage mere moments later.**_

_**Blair had already begun to walk away from the other girl, Chuck standing near, while all the other children seemed to be stood still with fear, and awe.**_

_**And that was when Georgina made her move towards Blair.**_

_**Although, with the previous recess, and the milling of students around, several musical instruments had been added to the surrounding area. And so, Chuck took his chance, and subtlety flicked up a trumpet with his foot – at least he thought that was it. It was long and made of what seemed like brass and you blew into it to make a sound, and it did start with a 't'; it could have been a trombone actually, not that he cared that much since if he ever wanted to know the difference he'd either ask the World Wide Web or he'd just commission the conductor of a Symphony Orchestra to tell him.**_

_**Either way, his little maneuver was successful and Georgina Sparks went flying. Right into the Grand Piano.**_

_**Chuck's attention was diverted momentarily by the sudden shriek from Mrs Willard in the opposite corner, and a shadow moving along the wall near the exit.**_

_**And that was when he realized that he'd been leaning against said Grand Piano, and it was now rolling rather speedily towards the side of the stage.**_

_**He tumbled to the side in time to see the huge object lose its legs to the floor below, the sound of the back doors slamming shut muffling its crash.**_

_**He was almost certain he saw smoke rising from where a certain piano had hit solid wood. Georgina Sparks had righted herself once more, dusting off her clothes, and was glaring at Blair, who was simply smirking at the girl in return.**_

_**And then the teacher screeched his name, along with promptly informing him that in no way would he be participating in "the creation of such an awe-inspiring piece of art" – to which he rolled his eyes, naturally – and out of the corner of his eye, caught the smug look contorting itself across Georgina's face. His attention was enthralled, however, in the slight smile playing across Blair's lips then, before she rolled her eyes and sought out her most disapproving look to direct at him instead.**_

_**The teacher practically frog-marched him to the Principal's office, and he knew his parents would pitch a fit when they heard what he'd gotten up to now; it was, after all, time for the new line's to be showcased in the Fashion world. Nope, his mother would not be happy; and when his mother wasn't happy, his father wasn't either, and he was surprisingly adept at making his feelings known, even when he was overseas. Though, he supposed, maybe he could win his mother round by dropping in Georgina's name as the real villain and saying that he was doing it in Blair's honor. His father, well, he'd leave that to his mother. He might be able to wrangle a new, just of the line, pair of earrings for her to work his side; he'd leave the cigars to his mother though, she'd likely only pitch a fit if he added smuggling Cuban cigars onto his present resume; though he suspected his father might be more than a little proud if he succeeded. The taste of victory, after all, was incomparable.**_

_**But to see that instant, grateful look on his best friend's face when she'd seen what he had done for her, well, that made it all worth it.**_

_**Blair Waldorf didn't need a platform to shine. She towered above the rest effortlessly. When she spoke up, people stopped to listen. When she did something, people stood to get a better view. He had been with her throughout; but that didn't mean he'd be opposed to viewing a private show.**_

_**And Chuck Bass promised himself that when the time came he would personally buy her the stage on which to do so.**_

-

"I knew she was there – I knew it!" Chuck exclaimed.

Then his face fell into a slight frown as he asked, "Why didn't she hang around to see what happened?"

Blair just raised her eyebrows at her husband and replied, "She was probably too busy making her way to the Head Teacher's office with her checkbook."

"True," he relented, rolling his shoulders.

"You do realize that that whole school is practically endowed with the Bass name, don't you?" she added then.

He nodded, musing over the fact.

And then he smirked, and tugged at her waist, as he murmured, "It's because the Bass way is the _only_ way."

Blair rolled her eyes at him, but allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace as he nuzzled into her neck.

Eleanor merely sniffed, turning away from the two, and voicing, "Well, that would certainly explain why your mother was in such a foul mood when she decided to pay me a visit."

-

**  
"Are you going to the kids' play?" Misty asked me then.**

"**Hmm?" I voiced absentmindedly, and turned to face her.**

"**The play, at our children's school – are you going?" she repeated.**

**I rolled my shoulders, "Of course, motherly support and all that."**

"**Serena's the lead," she reminded me with a pointed look.**

"**I know that, I know," I defended.**

"**I just… Blair could've done it, you know," I said then, meeting her eyes.**

"**I know, and she'd have been perfect, no doubt," my best friend agreed.**

"**But she doesn't need a stage to shine," she reminded me. "She already does in the eyes of many."**

"**Mmm," I raised my eyebrows at her. "Well, it wouldn't have hurt for her to put in a little effort into the audition stages."**

"**I think she did," Misty replied gently. "But I'm not sure it was held that highly in her favor."**

"**What do you mean?" I questioned.**

"**The Blonde Princess?" she responded, raising an eyebrow at me. "You don't think they were being a **_**little**_** biased there?"**

"**Well, she could've worn a wig," I reasoned, after a moment.**

"**I'm going to pretend I never heard that, because something has seriously come over you, and honestly: where the heck is my best friend?" Misty asked.**

"**A wig?" she questioned then. "Oh my word, that's almost as bad as suggesting she spend the holiday in Brooklyn!"**

"**I know, I don't know what came over me," I admitted.**

"**I do," Misty replied knowingly. "But I'm going to pretend that it's not happening because I know you, and I know you'd never do that to your daughter."**

"**Do what?" I questioned, my voice rising.**

"**Offer to design the costumes for the lead roles before they're even cast?" she replied, raising an eyebrow at me.**

"**Advertising," I dismissed her suggestions.**

"**Yes, and that's what I'm going to tell her when she finds out and asks me if I knew about it," Misty answered.**

"**She's intuitive, and she's by no means stupid, and your blatant favoritism of her best friend over her when it comes to your clothing line or anything else is going to come back to bite you in the ass one day, Eleanor."**

**She raised her hand to cut off my reply, and said, "I don't care how you twist it and try and put it down to it simply being business. No matter what, family comes first; you know this, Eleanor, you know this."**

"**But just in case you forget, I'll give you a little reminder. Shining stars lose their brightness and every one has their fall from grace. And if I find out that Blair's has anything to do with you, I don't care if it's **_**years**_** from now, I will personally remind you of what it is that makes a Bass."**

**I stared at my best friend for a moment, unsure of what to say.**

**She just rolled her eyes at me; the spell was broken, and said, "Close your mouth, Eleanor. We're not out catching flies."**

**I glowered at her and she flashed me a smile, grabbing her clutch form the counter and telling me, "I'll see you at the play tonight."**

**She winked at me, and I rolled my eyes.**

"**Oh, and did I mention my son won't be playing the lead," Misty commented, whirling round. "Apparently your daughter feels music would be more suited to his expertise."**

**My eyes betrayed me as they widened in surprise at this, before narrowing in an intense need to hurtle something straight at my best friend's head, as I realized what she was implying with this.**

"**Don't be late tonight; tardiness is as good a look on you as wanting to murder your best friend," she quipped and grinned at me as she left.**

**It was a damn good look on me, and it was made even better by the sheer amount of passion I held for it. She really would drive me crazy one day; I was sure of it.**

**But for the moment, I only had to suffer her intermittently. I dreaded to think what would happen if our children actually **_**acted**_** on those similarities; the outcome did **_**not**_** bear thinking about.**

**Because Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf were volatile enough on their own without throwing them together. Their relationship was beyond combustible already; it could actually inflame the rest of us if it got any hotter.**

**-**

**  
In years to come I would blame Misty and her influence for it all: after all, she did have an uncanny sway over my daughter; and it could only be from her that her son apparently inherited this 'gift'. It's not as if we Waldorf woman had a soft spot for the Basses; no, we merely tolerated their existence. Besides, they provided amusement, and entertained us at almost every turn; not to mention they made our blood boil.**

**They had their uses, and it's hardly our fault that we're so attached to them; they have a certain charm.**

**It sinful really for anyone to be that charming.**

**She was still charming, even now; I'm sure you know that son of hers?**

TBC…

* * *

Also, sorry about my lack of 'ingeniousness' when coming up with certain parts of this story, for some reason my own scintillating wit and humour seemed to be failing me somewhat when writing this, so sorry if it's not quite up to par :S

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you thought – much appreciated, as always!  
Steph  
xxx


	9. Boredom Doesn't Become Us, Darling

Hello all :)  
Wow, it's been over a year since I last updated :O Sorry about that, but my muse for this just sort of… died.  
I was struck with inspiration – of sorts ;) – for this, so I finally just got to it and wrote up this chapter.  
Hope you enjoy…

A/N: As always, italics are Misty's diary entry, bold is Eleanor's memories, and bold italics are Blair/Chuck memories.

Also, the existence of this chapter is owed to UnkownP3 – I hope you like it :)

* * *

Chapter Eight: Boredom Doesn't Become You Darling, And It Never Will – Especially Not With Me Around

_"My son approached me this afternoon to ask if our dear friend Blair could accompany us on our little jaunt across the ocean to the fair green isle._

_I'm skeptical of his reasons, __**naturally**__._

_That could be because he was trying entirely too hard to come across as casual; my son doesn't __**do**__ casual, in any sense of the word._

_It could also be because I overheard a certain snippet of conversation between him and the little dark-haired beauty, and I know he's pretending it doesn't mean as much as it does._

_It always means something when the one you love goes off with the best friend."_

-

Chuck groaned as his mother-in-law read the passage out to them.

"How did she always _know_ these things?" he muttered.

Eleanor smirked, "It's a mother's prerogative."

"Right," was all he said to that, rolling his eyes.

"Well, in any case, I dare say you two could tell me more of how this story begins than I could you," she commented, giving them a pointed look.

"Alright then, I'll tell the story," Blair announced a moment later, when it became infinitely clear that Chuck had no intention whatsoever of doing it.

**-**

"_**I'll have to consider my options," Blair told him, head turned slightly to the side, chin jutting out, nose high in the air.**_

"_**Yes, because there's that no option, and then there's the equally alluring **_**yes **_**option. So many decisions, Waldorf, however will you choose?" was Chuck's scathing retort.**_

"_**Well, if that's how you're going to act I won't bother coming," she snootily replied. "After all, what fun would going to another country be when my companion just snaps at me all the time for every little thing I do?"**_

"_**I don't know, what fun would sticking around here be when my companion acts like a lapdog to my best friend's every little whim?" was his answer to that.**_

_**She opened her mouth, scandalized. "I do **_**not**_** act like a lapdog," she replied, indignant.**_

"_**Yes," he said. "You do."**_

_**Blair huffed, looked ready to about throttle him with that damn scarf he'd been wearing since they were **_**five.**

_**And then she did something that seemed to surprise him; she flopped down on the ground right there, the skirt of her dress fanning out around her, her legs crossing beneath her.**_

_**"Why do you hate me so much, Chuck?" she asked in a quiet voice, and looked up at him with eyes that shone brightly in the outside light.**_

**"_God, Waldorf," he groaned, and dropped to the grass so he was sitting in front of her. "I don't hate you."_**

**"_I hate what he does to you," he informed her, through gritted teeth. "All meek and obedient."_**

**"_I am meek and obedient," she started to protest._**

**"_And _boring_," Chuck finished, sending her a look._**

**"_Oh," she voiced, her head dropping as the realization hit._**

_**He took her hands in his, "I could never hate you."**_

_**A light smirk rounded his lips and he reached out a hand to brush a stray tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb, telling her simply, "You're my girl."**_

_**She nodded, looking down again, this time with the curve of her cheek molding into the palm of his hand.**_

_**And then she raised her head to meet his eyes as she said, "Yeah, except I'm not anymore. I'm Nate's girl now; he's my boyfriend."**_

"_**Pfft," Chuck scoffed at this, waving a hand to dismiss it. "Semantics."**_

"_**You're my girl, Waldorf," he told her, eyes hard on hers. "Always have been, always will be."**_

_**A smile slowly crept its way up her cheeks, and he ran his hand over her skin softly with his fingertips.**_

_**Her eyes were alight with mischief and she grinned at him then, alive and bright.**_

"_**So we're going to Ireland together?" she asked, voice hopeful.**_

"'_**Course we are," Chuck replied, standing and dusting off his pants. "You didn't seriously think I'd go and not take you with me, did you? I said I'd take you and I will."**_

_**She smiled, murmuring, "Thank you, Chuck."**_

"_**Anytime, Waldorf," he said in return, smirking as he pulled her to her feet.**_

"_**They call it 'The Land of Dreams', you know," he commented, as they walked across the grass, his arm looped over her shoulders.**_

"_**I don't need any dreams, Chuck, I already live in one," she said to that.**_

"_**Oh puke," he remarked at that and made to move away, making an action of faux choking, as he called out, "Please, someone gag her now."**_

_**She giggled at his antics, and tugged him back in, placing her fingers through his as they dangled near her collarbone. "Not **_**that**_**, silly," she chastised him lightly, prodding him in the ribs.**_

"_**This," she told him, gesturing between the two of them. "You. Me. Us."**_

_**And then she smiled up at him, brilliant and clear. **_

_**He was sure nothing would be the same again.**_

-

"It might interest you to know I was invited on that little trip as well," Eleanor announced, drawing the attention of the couple before her away from one another for a moment.

"Of course, I didn't go – but the phone conversations with your mother, Charles, were simply a _delight, _I assure you," she commented.

He groaned, and moved his head away from his wife's, while she beamed back at her mother.

Sometimes Eleanor wondered how they ever functioned together as one; and then she remembered that she and Misty had been the same way.

It was a scary realization; such was the parallel.

**-**

"**Ireland?" I questioned.**

"**Yes," Misty answered simply.**

"**No," I replied.**

**She released a laugh, "Why not?"**

"**Well, **_**why**_**?" I returned. "It's all **_**green**_** and full of little leprechauns who sing and dance and wait for the next rainbow to make them rich. No."**

**Misty was looking at me like I was insane; it was entirely possible, of course, but I sincerely doubted it. **

"**Has anyone ever told you that you stereotype far too much?" she laughed.**

**I rolled my shoulders, casting my head to the side, "There's always a little truth in these things."**

**I sniffed and she laughed again, louder, clearer. "You do realize your nose is so high in the air right now…"**

**I didn't bother to look at her, though I knew she was still smiling, widely.**

"**Well, in any case, Blair is coming with us," she informed me at that, lifting her purse from the counter. "So if you don't want a recurrence of the last time she came away with us, I suggest you fit her with a new phone and the instructions to actually use it."**

"**Now why would I do that?" I asked, meeting her gaze with a sweet smile of my own. "When I could just call my dearest friend and have her connect me?"**

**Misty groaned, knowing full well what this actually meant.**

"**What a shame phone reception will likely be non-existent when we venture into the land of endless **_**green**_**," she quipped.**

**She was smirking at me as she added, "You know, what with all the leprechauns that inhabit it not having gotten round to actually building anything due to their obsession with waiting for the next windfall-providing-rainbow."**

"**Don't sell yourself short, Misty," I gave in retort. "It doesn't have to rain before you arrive to bring the sunshine – the want to drown oneself in the nearest puddle comes **_**after**_** you've made your presence known."**

**Misty rolled her eyes at me, "Goodbye, Eleanor."**

**She shot me a look at that before throwing her bag over her shoulder and striding towards the door, calling out as she neared the elevator, "Tell her not to bring anything green, won't you?"**

**She turned and flashed her teeth at me as she grinned, "Wouldn't want to lose her in all that scenery, now would we?"**

**I scoffed at her attempt at humor, but was smiling nonetheless as the elevator doors closed on my best friend's beaming face.**

**-**

"**Well, all I can say is I'm glad I made my daughter have her shots before letting her run loose in your care," I said by way of greeting when the line **_**finally**_** connected.**

"**Whatever do you mean by that, Eleanor dearest," was her reply.**

**I rolled my eyes. "Kissing an old piece of stone?"**

**Her laughter rang through the line, and I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh. "**_**Anyone**_** could've kissed that thing – who **_**knows**_** what sorts of diseases she could've contracted!"**

"**Well I dare say she won't be getting chickenpox again," was my best friend's amused response to that. "I did try to warn you about fraternizing with Brooklynites, Eleanor."**

"**Yes, yes," I answered, rolling my eyes. "You've yet to tell me why you allowed her to do it, however."**

"**Oh, I didn't," she replied easily. "I wasn't even there."**

"**You mean you let my daughter hang upside down over a piece of rock – how high up in the air? – and you weren't even there to supervise in case anything went wrong?" I exclaimed.**

"**Oh, Eleanor," she sighed, and I could tell she was rolling her eyes. "Always the dramatist."**

"**These people are professionals – and there's a railing. She was perfectly safe," she assured me. "Besides you spoke to her earlier, did she sound dead to you?"**

"**Very funny," I remarked. "It still doesn't absolve you of anything, though."**

**She tutted at me, "I'm sure Chuck would have come running if anything had happened to her – and I doubt I could've missed your daughter's screams either."**

"**Besides, he was holding her feet as an extra precaution and that was enough for **_**her**_**," Misty informed me; she was baiting me, I knew.**

"**I bet it was," I commented, rolling my eyes at this.**

**She encouraged her son far too much, especially in his quest to claim my daughter as his. Honestly, it was exhausting at times trying to keep up with them. I often wondered why I bothered; they'd no doubt win out in the end. Basses always come out on top, after all. And they always get what they want too.**

"**Were you worried I'd let a stranger throw your daughter from the castle walls, Eleanor?" she teased me lightly.**

**I made a noise low in my throat: no, not a **_**grunt**_**. Animals **_**grunt**_**, Waldorf's certainly do not.**

"**The thought might've crossed my mind," I answered slowly.**

**She chuckled, "Well then we'd have been childless together, because Chuck would have no doubt thrown himself after her – you know how my boys are with their grand gestures and all."**

**I laughed then, because this was true, I did know. In fact, I'd laid witness to it quite a few times.**

"**Now are you quite done?" Misty asked. "Because I wouldn't mind actually trying to rest easy tonight **_**without**_** thoughts of my best friend hijacking my plane across the Atlantic only to crash it into my hotel room and reap the benefits of whatever it is I've left for her in my will."**

"**It could still happen," I replied, a smile lilting my words.**

"**Oh, I know," Misty assured me, mildly amused. "Why d'you think there's such high insurance on our jet?"**

**-**

"_**Why**_** does my daughter want us to go to Church every Sunday?"**

"**What can I say? She wants to become more in tune with her religion,"**

**I scoffed at that. "She does not. What have you been telling her?"**

"**Or more importantly, what have you been **_**teaching**_** her?" I rephrased.**

"**It better not have been any more of that voodoo crap your son likes to spout around the place," I told her.**

**She laughed. "Exorcism is not **_**voodoo crap**_**, Eleanor; it's recognized by the Church."**

"**Mmm," I voiced at that. "**_**The Church**_**."**

**I could tell she was rolling her eyes at me. "Just because _your_ daughter tried to convince _my_ priest that that Sparks girl had some sort of demon inside her and got into trouble for it, does not mean you can hold _my_ whole religion responsible."**

**I grumbled under my breath, until Misty's amused voice cut through, "If it bothers you that much, she could accompany me."**

"**She will not!" I put stop to that thought right there. "Her grandparents would have a fit."**

**My best friend laughed at this, "Yes, but think of the fun to be had when Blair tells them how she enjoyed it so."**

**I could imagine what she looked like right then: her lips spread across her cheeks in a wide grin, her tongue poking out from between her teeth like an excited child, eyes bright with the brewing of trouble.**

"**Where has this all come from anyway?" I asked, sighing lightly and deciding it best to steer the question in the other direction.**

"**Oh, Chuck took her to see the Book of Kells," she informed me casually; as if this was something I should just **_**know**_** existed, as well as what exactly it was.**

"**She was entranced," Misty informs me, clearly entertained. "Though I like to think that was from the look in my son's eyes rather than the kaleidoscope of images in front of her."**

**I rolled my eyes. "She has a **_**boyfriend**_**, you know," I responded to that, smiling myself as the words left my mouth.**

"**Oh, I know," my best friend replied airily. "She told me of how Nate **_**finally **_**asked her to be his girlfriend, **_**officially**_** of course, because everyone **_**knows**_** they've practically been going out since Kindergarten."**

"**It doesn't stop her from being utterly fascinated by my son, though," Misty assured me.**

"**Of course not," I agreed offhandedly.**

"**Much like how her mother is enamored by me," Misty remarked, and I could tell she was grinning as she said it.**

"**Well, how could I not be?" I said in return. "When you baby-sit my daughter free of charge."**

**She laughed at that, playing along, "And you know how babysitters decide how best to deal with the child in their care? Well, **_**this**_** babysitter thinks your daughter could do with a large dose of Church attendance to straighten her out."**

"**You wouldn't dare!" I nearly screeched at her; except, of course, a Waldorf does not **_**screech.**_

"**I guess you'll just have to wait and see," she told me mischievously. "Bet you wish you'd come on the trip now."**

"**These leprechauns don't seem so backward and useless now, do they, Eleanor?" she continued to bait me. "They certainly managed to build enough churches to gain your daughter's interest."**

"**I'm warning you now, Misty, if you – "**

**She cut me off, with the delighted words, "If she comes back with life ambitions of being a nun – don't blame me!"**

"**No, I'll blame your son and his continued attempts at **_**wooing**_** her," I responded.**

"**Ah, well **_**that**_** he gets from his father," she told me, amusedly.**

"**Must dash now, Eleanor," she said next, sing-song-ing, "Can you hear the Church bells ringing?" **

**The dial tone sounded seconds later. Oh, I was going to murder her when she got back, her **_**and**_** her little scheming son. I dreaded the day when Blair completely fell for him; there'd be no hope for the rest of us after that.**

**-**

"**What is this I hear about your son leading my daughter astray?"**

"**I'm sorry, Eleanor, you're really going to have to be more specific than that," was my best friend's amused reply.**

"**Of course I am," I rolled my eyes.**

"**You took them to a **_**beer factory**_**," I reminded her.**

"**Ah, yes." I could make out her smile even when I couldn't see her.**

"**And you talk about me associating with people from Brooklyn," I remarked.**

**She laughed, "Oh, but Eleanor, it's **_**Guinness**_**."**

"**It hardly counts when they're practically dynasty themselves," she replied, amused.**

**I scoffed at this, and rolled my eyes. Dynasty indeed.**

"**Yes, well, I hope you were actually present this time around," I commented.**

**I knew she'd roll her eyes at the jibe, and as if on cue, her sardonic reply appeared, "No, I was off consorting with a random pleb I found milling about outside the gates. It was quite exciting actually; quick, and somewhat disgusting given the location, but it was raw, and animalistic and – "**

"**Alright, point made," I conceded.**

"**Don't worry, I put a stop to their antics before the glass reached your daughter's lips," she informed me then. "After all, a female drinking beer? That's the staple of someone who lives across the bridge, isn't it?"**

"**I'll get her a strawberry daiquiri or an apple martini with her dinner," she told me, sounding far too entertained by it all. "Or, you know, I could always just introduce her to your personal favorite."**

**Her laughter rang clear through the line, before she bid me goodnight and hung up.**

**I swore that woman would be the death of me.**

**She enjoyed these little games far too much; it'd be only a matter of time before my daughter and her son emulated this completely.**

**Only them, I thought to myself, shaking my head. Always with the excitement, I knew, as if they were afraid they could ever be anything close to boring when together.**

TBC…

* * *

Hope you liked it.

I won't make any assumptions to when the next chapter will be up, except to say that I certainly don't anticipate it being another year! ;)  
Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think – it means so much to me!  
Steph  
xxx


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